ACTON  B^/IES 


.3JT 


ROMANCE 


"'LET  ME  BE  GOOD!'  SHE  CRIED.  'LET  ME  BE  GOOD!' 


ROMANCE 

A    NOVEL 


BY 

ACTON   DAVIES 


FROM  THE  DRAMA 

BY  EDWARD  SHELDON 


With  Picture  from  thi  Play 


NEW  YORK 

THE  MACAULAY  COMPANY 
1913 


Copyright,  1913,  by 
EDWARD  SHELDON 

Copyright,  1913,  by 
THE  MACAULAY  COMPANY 


THE  SCHILLING  PRESS 
NEW  YORK 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

PROLOGUE .    .     .    n 

"THE  TROOPS  OF  MIDIAN" 93 

CHAPTER 

I    MR.  CORNELIUS  VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  THE  NUMBER  OF 

His  GUESTS  BY  ONE 9$ 

II    THE  REV.  THOMAS  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE  TO  A 

MAN  AND  RECEIVES  SOME  FROM  A  WOMAN   .     .  128 

III  SUSAN  PROVES  TO  BE  A  BRICK  AND  A  STOIC  AT  THE 

SAME    TIME  —  SHE   ALSO   TURNS    SONGSTRESS,    BY 
REQUEST 173 

IV  THE  OLD  YEAR  GOES  OUT  IN  A  FLURRY  OF  SNOW  — 

AND  OTHER  THINGS 194 

V    TOM  ARMSTRONG  FINDS  THAT  LITTLE  MINUTE  WHICH 

WE  CALL  TO-DAY 216 

VI    LA  CAVALLINI  BIDS  HER  AMERICAN  PUBLIC  A  FOND 

GOOD-BY 258 

VII    LA  CAVALLINI  POINTS  THE  WAY  AND  TOM  FOLLOWS  IT  279 
THE  EPILOGUE     .    .    >.    ..;    >.    .;    .    >    .    .     .     .3" 


2135068 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Let  me  be  good ! '  she  cried,  '  Let  me  be 
good ! '  "         Frontispiece 


FACING 
FACE 


"  She  turned  toward  Van  Tuyl,  still  laughing  "  .  138 
"'You're  crushing  them!'  cried  Tom"  .  .  .  166 
"'Oh,  don'  be  ang-ree!'  cried  Rita"  ....  226 


Good-by,    madame  —  I    offer   you    the   best    of 
wishes — '" 254 


"  '  I  thank  you  from  the  bottom  of  my  soul! '  "  .      .  290 


ROMANCE 

PROLOGUE 

SUSAN   BREAKS   IT  GENTLY   TO  THE   BISHOP 

"A  frog  he  would  a-wooing  go; 
'Heigh  ho!'  says  Roly" 

— Old  Nursery  Rhyme 

I 

"SUSAN!" 

A  whistle  rang  down  the  long  hall  of  the  old 
house  on  Washington  Square,  and  young  Harry 
Armstrong,  his  hands  clutched  nervously  in  the 
pockets  of  his  dinner  coat,  gazed  eagerly  toward 
the  closed  door  of  the  dining-room  awaiting  a 
reply. 

In  a  moment  the  door  opened  gingerly  and  a 
fair  haired  girl  of  sixteen  poked  her  head  out 
cautiously  as  though  to  get  the  lay  of  the  land. 

"  Is  that  you,  Harry?  Did  you  call?  "  asked 
the  girl,  closing  the  door  behind  her  and  coming 
toward  him. 

II 


12  ROMANCE 

*  Yes,  of  course  it's  me,"  cried  the  young  man 
ungrammatically.  "  Come  along  in  here.  I 
want  to  talk  to  you.  It's  important,  too,"  he 
added  as  he  led  the  way  into  his  grandfather's 
study.  "  So  shut  the  door  behind  you  and  come 
and  sit  down  here.  I'll  have  just  time  to  tell  you 
before  Grandpa  comes  in.  Promise,  though,  that 
you  won't  tell  him  a  word  about  it.  I'll  do  that 
later  on  myself.  Only  you  can  always  do  what 
you  like  with  him  so  well  that  I  thought  I'd  have 
you  on  my  side  first  —  to  make  sure,  don't  you 
know?  A  fellow  can't  even  be  perfectly  sure  of 
his  own  sister  when  he  starts  to  tell  her  a  thing 
like  this." 

"  Well,  what  on  earth  is  it,  Harry?  "  exclaimed 
Susan  apprehensively.  "  Don't  tell  me  you've 
been  sent  down  from  college  again ;  because  if  you 
have  it  will  simply  break  Grandpa's  heart." 

"  No !  no !  It's  nothing  like  that,"  laughed  the 
boy,  rather  enjoying  the  girl's  suspense.  Placing 
his  hands  behind  his  back  and  striking  rather  an 
important  attitude  as  he  stood  on  the  hearth  rug, 
he  went  on :  "  All  I  ask  you  is  not  to  cry  or  do 
anything  silly.  Because  it's  really  a  grand  piece 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        13? 

of  news.  I  know  you'll  think  so  once  you  get 
used  to  it.  You've  always  been  such  a  bully  pal 
to  me,  old  girl,  in  all  my  scrapes  that  I  know 
you're  going  to  stick  by  me  in  this  one.  I  just 
want  you  to  break  the  ice  for  me  with  Grand- 
father." 

"Yes;  that's  all  very  well,  Harry.  But  how 
am  I  going  to  break  the  ice  if  you  don't  tell  me 
what's  the  matter?  " 

"  Oh,  I'll  tell  you  right  enough !  "  exclaimed 
young  Armstrong.  "  Only  promise  me  you  won't 
make  a  fuss,  Susan.  And  please,  for  heaven's 
sake,  don't  cry.  For  Grandpa  will  be  in  here  in 
a  moment,  and  then  he'll  see  your  nose  is  red  and 
he'll  want  to  know  all  about  it  and  the  fat  will  be 
in  the  fire  before  I  get  a  chance  to  tell  it  to  him 
properly  and  in  my  own  way." 

"  Don't  worry  about  Grandpa.  He's  safe  for 
ten  minutes  at  least.  Some  of  the  deaconesses 
from  the  old  church,  St.  Giles's,  have  just  called 
to  wish  him  a  Happy  New  Year.  And  you  know 
how  it  is  when  he  gets  talking  with  his  old  friends, 
Harry.  They'll  c  reminisce  '  for  half  an  hour  at 
least.  What  on  earth  is  it,  Harry?  Tell  me." 


i4  ROMANCE 

"  Well,  Susan,"  young  Armstrong  began  im- 
pressively, while  he  stroked  his  back  hair  with  one 
hand,  "  perhaps  I'd  better  break  it  to  you  in 
pieces.  In  the  first  place,  Susan,  I'm  engaged." 

"Engaged!  To  be  married!  And  to  that 
girl  —  to  Lucille  Anderson?  Oh,  Harry!"  ex- 
claimed Susan  all  in  one  breath. 

"Why  do  you  say  'that  girl,'  Susan?"  asked 
her  brother  sternly. 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  anything  by  that,  Harry 
—  really  I  didn't.  Just  give  me  half  a  second  to 
get  used  to  it.  I  think  she's  awfully  pretty  and 
the  one  time  I  met  her,  the  day  you  introduced 
us  at  the  skating  rink,  I  thought  her  hair  was 
perfectly  lovely  and  she's  got  a  pretty  voice.  In 
fact  I  liked  her  voice  even  better  than  her  hair. 
It  seemed  more  real." 

11  Good  Lord !  What  cats  you  women  can  be 
to  each  other  when  you  feel  inclined.  That's 
just  your  nasty  way  of  insinuating  that  Lucille's 
touched  up  her  hair.  And  why  shouldn't  she 
touch  up  her  hair  if  she  wants  to?  "  he  proceeded 
indignantly  as  poor  Susan  strove  to  put  in  a  word 
of  explanation.  "  That  remark  was  just  what  I 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        ifl 

might  have  expected  from  any  member  of  my 
family.  I  might  have  known!  As  a  matter  of 
fact  she  explained  to  me  just  why  she  '  touched 
up  '  her  hair.  She  did  it  because  she  thought  it 
would  help  her  in  her  stage  career.  Her  father 
was  one  of  the  best  known  lawyers  in  Toronto, 
Canada.  I  told  you  that,  didn't  I?  And  until 
a  year  ago,  when  her  father  died  and  left  no 
money,  she  had  never  done  a  stroke  of  work  in 
all  her  life.  Naturally  she  chose  the  stage  as  a 
career  because  she  is  ambitious  and  artistic  and 
has  a  temperament.  Just  because  you  and  I  hap- 
pen to  have  been  left  plenty  of  money  is  no  rea- 
son for  us  to  jump  on  a  poor  girl  who's  had  hard 
luck  and  is  trying  to  earn  an  honest  living.  I 
know  what  you're  really  picking  at.  You're  sore 
because  I'm  going  to  marry  an  actress." 

"  No,  I'm  not  —  that's  not  it  a  bit,  Harry," 
expostulated  Susan,  getting  indignant  in  her  turn. 
"  I  can't  imagine  anything  nicer  than  to  have  a  real 
actress  —  someone  who's  won  great  triumphs  in 
Juliet  or  Camille  or  Zaza  or  even  one  of  the  mu- 
sical comedy  girls  such  as  the  English  nobility  are 
always  marrying  —  a  woman  like  that  would  be 


16  ROMANCE 

worth  while  having  for  a  sister-in-law.  I  should 
adore  her.  And  it  would  be  a  splendid  thing  for 
our  family  too  —  because  as  far  as  I  can  make  out 
about  our  stock  for  the  last  hundred  years  or  so 
we've  had  more  bishops  and  deans  and  merchant 
princes  on  our  family  tree  than  is  good  for  the 
blood.  Simply  because  I'm  not  '  out  *  yet  you 
needn't  think,  Harry,  that  I  am  not  a  woman  of 
the  world." 

Young  Susan  threw  her  head  up  and  stared  at 
her  brother  with  an  affronted,  injured  air  Mrs. 
Grundy  herself  could  not  have  excelled. 

"  I'm  not  objecting  to  Lucille  anyway,"  the  girl 
protested.  "  And  if  I  was  it  wouldn't  be  because 
she's  an  actress.  That's  just  it,  you  see.  She 
isn't  one.  She  isn't  an  actress  —  she's  only  a 
school  of  acting  actress.  You  told  me  so  your- 
self, Harry.  You  said  she  was  taking  a  three 
months  students'  course.  As  far  as  I  can  make 
out  she's  just  a  sweet,  nice  girl,  just  as  respectable 
and  just  as  humdrum  and  uninteresting  as  all  the 
rest  of  us.  If  I  was  a  man  I  might  make  up  my 
mind  to  marry  an  actress,  but  you  bet  she'd  have 
to  be  a  celebrity." 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        17, 

"  Well,  that's  a  nice  point  of  view  for  you  to 
take,  I  must  say,"  said  Harry  sneeringly.  "  It's 
a  lucky  thing  you  weren't  born  a  boy  or  you'd  have 
disgraced  the  family  even  before  you  got  a  chance 
of  being  sent  down  from  college.  I  was  prepared 
for  you  and  Grandpa  to  raise  Cain  about  my  mar- 
rying an  actress,"  he  added  loftily,  "  but  by  God ! 
Susan,  I  never  dreamed  that  a  sister  of  mine  would 
object  to  my  marrying  a  woman  wh'o  is  well  born 
and  comes  of  the  best  people." 

"  That's  just  it,  Harry.  All  the  stupidest  girls 
I  know  come  from  the  best  people.  I  may  be  an 
anarchist,  Harry,  but  when  I  get  a  sister-in-law  I 
want  her  to  be  someone  worth  while  —  a  woman 
who  has  lived  and  done  things  and  can  help  me  to 
entertain  dear  old  Grandpa  in  the  evenings." 

"  Susan,  you  talk  like  a  fool !  "  shouted  her 
brother.  "  I'm  amazed  at  you.  But  if  you  think 
that  I'm  going  to  allow  Lucille  to  give  up  her 
career  just  because  she's  going  to  marry  me  you're 
very  much  mistaken.  Do  you  know  what  I'm  go- 
ing to  give  my  little  girl  for  one  of  my  wedding 
presents?  The  finest  Shakespearian  outfit  that 
money  can  buy.  She  shall  play  Juliet  and  Lady 


1 8  ROMANCE 

Macbeth  and  any  other  classics  she  wants  to  to 
her  heart's  content.  And  if  she  wants  it  she  shall 
have  her  own  theater,  too.  If  she  can't  find  one 
that  suits  her  I'll  build  her  one  myself.  Oh,  I 
can  afford  it  all  right!  You  seem  to  forget  that 
I  come  of  age  in  February,  and  then  not  only 
Uncle  Cornelius  Van  Tuyl's  jolly  old  house  but 
half  his  money  comes  to  me." 

"Harry!"  cried  his  sister,  springing  up  and 
kissing  him,  "  I  believe  you  really  do  love  her  after 
all.  I  was  only  half  in  earnest  in  what  I  said  — 
I've  always  had  such  grand  dreams  of  your  mar- 
riage. I  have  always  been  so  ambitious.  But  if 
you  really  love  Lucille  I  don't  care  whether  she's 
an  actress  or  not.  Take  her  off  the  stage  and 
make  even  a  fashionable  woman  of  her  if  you  like. 
We'll  stand  by  you  —  Grandpa  and  I.  At  least 
I  will  —  and  I'll  make  Grandpa.  As  he  gets 
older  you  know  he  gets  easier  and  easier  for  me 
to  manage.  And  I'll  tell  you  something  else 
about  him,  Harry  —  something  that  I've  never 
suspected  until  very  lately.  And  it's  true  too. 
I'm  sure  of  it." 

"  What  is  it?  "  queried  her  brother. 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY         19 

"  It's  this  —  don't  laugh  now !  "  she  leaned  to- 
ward him  half  mysteriously  and  whispered, 
"  Grandpa  has  got  a  past!  " 

II 

"  Come  off,  Susan !  You're  talking  through 
your  hat!  What!  That  dear  old  saint  ever 
worldly  or  frolicsome?  Don't  you  believe  it. 
He  was  born  good." 

"  Well,  even  saints,  Harry,  occasionally  break 
through  the  traces  or  hit  the  ceiling.  If  you'd 
ever  read  your  Balzac  or  your  Dickens,  you'd 
know  that.  But  then  you  never  cared  a  rap  for 
novels,  did  you?  That's  where  I've  got  all  my 
knowledge  of  the  world.  They're  the  only  anti- 
dote for  a  girl  who  was  born  the  granddaughter 
of  a  bishop  and  who  has  to  live  not  only  with 
him,  but  according  to  his  lights." 

"  Don't  you  believe  it,  Susan,"  said  Harry  in  a 
superior  tone.  "  You're  an  impressionable  senti- 
mental little  fool;  you  know  nothing  of  the 
world.  You're  just  young  Susan  —  that's  all : 
just  young.  Try  and  live  it  down.  I  told 


20  ROMANCE 

Grandpa  that  he  should  have  forbidden  you  to 
read  '  the  Garden  of  Allah.'  " 

"  Oh,  pshaw,  Harry,  don't  be  an  idiot.  I'd 
have  read  it  anyway.  But  about  Grandpa  — 
now  just  listen;  what  I've  learned  about  him,  I 
didn't  get  out  of  any  book  —  it's  just  from  intui- 
tion. It's  one  of  those  things  that  every  woman 
knows,  Harry  —  even  when  she's  just  a  girl  who's 
not  *  out '  like  me. 

"  And  by  the  way,  Harry,"  exclaimed  Susan 
suddenly  changing  the  subject.  "  You  tell  Lucille 
for  me,  with  my  compliments,  that  when  you  are 
married  and  have  got  settled  in  the  Van  Tuyl  man- 
sion the  very  first  thing  which  I'll  expect  her  to 
do  will  be  to  give  one  grand  terrific,  *  bang  up ' 
coming  out  party  for  me.  There's  to  be  noth- 
ing diocesan  or  Girls-Friendly-Mothers'-Meeting 
about  it,  it's  to  be  one  magnificent  grand  splash 
with  all  the  modern  improvements,  just  the  sort 
of  glorious  and  magnificent  affairs  which  old 
Great  Uncle  Cornelius  Van  Tuyl  used  to  give  two 
or  three  times  a  season.  Grandpa  went  to  one 
of  his  great  parties  once  and  even  then,  mind  you, 
he  was  the  rector  of  St.  Giles.  The  only  time 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        21; 

that  he  has  ever  spoken  of  it  was  one  night  when 
I  started  to  read  to  him  and  there  wasn't  as  much 
interesting  foreign  news  as  usual  in  the  Evening 
Post.  He  was  rather  blue  that  night  —  you  know 
how  he  gets  sometimes  when  he  goes  to  his  desk 
and  gets  that  little  box  out.  I  wonder  what  there 
is  in  that  little  box.  He'll  never  let  me  look  in  it. 
I've  always  been  dying  and  aching  to — but  I 
wouldn't  do  it  for  worlds.  That's  the  most  glori- 
ous thing  of  all  the  glorious  things  about  Grandpa, 
—  his  sense  of  honor.  And  he  judges  everyone 
in  that  respect  by  himself.  Don't  you  remember, 
Harry,  years  and  years  ago  when  we  were  chil- 
dren, it  was  Grandpa's  sense  of  honor  which  cured 
us  both  of  our  pantry  habit  of  stealing  jam. 
Well,  it  was  something  he  said  one  night  about 
Uncle  Cornie  which  made  me  first  suspicious  of 
Grandpa's  past.  You  can't  tell  me,  Harry!  but 
somehow  and  somewhere  he  and  Uncle  Cornie 
were  rival  sweethearts.  Who  the  woman  was 
I've  never  been  able  to  find  out  —  and  oh! 
Harry,  if  you  only  knew  how  I'd  love  to  worm  it 
out  of  him  in  an  honorable  way.  At  first  I 
thought  it  was  Adelina  Patti.  But  I  was  wrong 


22  ROMANCE 

there;  I'm  sure  of  that,  for  whenever  he  speaks  of 
her  wonderful  voice  there's  always  a  '  but '  in  his 
praise  of  her.  No  lover  ever  uses  the  word  '  but ' 
when  he's  praising  his  lady  love,  Harry.  You 
may  have  the  advantage  of  me  in  being  engaged; 
but  at  least  I  do  know  that;  it  wasn't  Balzac  nor 
Hichens  taught  me,  in  spite  of  all  you  say." 

"  No,"  Susan  went  on  reflectively  and  with  an 
assumption  of  wisdom  far,  far  beyond  her  years, 
"  Grandpa's  sweetheart  wasn't  Patti;  that  I'm  sure 
of!  But  she  was  an  opera  singer.  I'll  bet  any- 
thing you  like  on  that!  I'd  stake  my  life  on  it. 
Because  from  the  day  you  bought  him  the  Victrola 
for  Christmas  I  noticed  that  he  only  cares  for  the 
old  grand  opera  records.  Wagner  and  all  the 
German  new  school  composers  are  like  a  red  rag 
to  a  bull  to  Grandpa.  I  only  turn  them  on  for 
him  very  occasionally,  just  for  punishment,  when 
he  hasn't  been  letting  me  have  quite  my  own  way. 
Only  this  afternoon  when  I  was  out  I  bought  him 
a  new  record  for  a  New  Year's  present.  It's 
Destinn  in  the  aria  from  '  Mignon.'  He's  told 
me  lots  of  times  that  '  Mignon '  was  the  opera  he 
loved  best. 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        23 

"  And  there's  something  else  I've  found  out 
about  Grandpa  lately,  Harry,"  continued  Susan  as 
she  curled  herself  up  before  the  fireplace  in  the 
Bishop's  big  armchair.  "  You  see,  I've  been  keep- 
ing very  close  tab  on  him  lately.  He  interests  me 
tremendously,  Harry,  not  only  as  the  dearest  old 
gentleman  that  ever  lived,  but  as  a  curious  speci- 
men of  a  bygone  age." 

"  Humph !  "  exclaimed  Harry  somewhat  con- 
temptuously. "What  are  you,  anyway?  An 
archaeologist  or  a  Sherlock  Holmes?  I  always 
thought  there  was  a  good  deal  of  the  detective 
about  you,  Susan,"  he  added  laughingly.  "  But 
what's  this  other  mystery  you've  solved  about 
poor  old  Grandpa?  If  he  could  hear  us  talking 
him  over  like  this  I  believe  that,  big  as  we  are, 
he'd  box  the  ears  of  both  of  us  and  send  us  off  to 
bed." 

"  Well,"  replied  Susan,  "  this  is  what  I've  dis- 
covered, Harry;  I  don't  believe  that  his  wife, 
Grandmama  Armstrong,  was  really  the  great  love 
of  his  life." 

"  What  makes  you  think  that?  " 

"  Well,    listen !  "    pursued    Susan.     "  He's    al- 


24  ROMANCE 

ways  telling  us  what  a  good  woman  his  wife, 
Susan,  was.  Now  a  man  who's  been  madly  in 
love  with  a  woman  never  speaks  of  her  in  that 
way.  He  might  talk  of  the  love  of  his  life  as 
anything  from  an  angel  to  a  sorceress,  but  he 
would  never  harp  on  the  point,  as  Grandpa  does, 
that  she  was  so  very  good.  Then  besides  the 
family  Bible  bears  out  my  suspicions,  Harry." 

"  Why,  what's  the  family  Bible  got  to  do  with 
it?" 

"  Well,  I  just  thought  I'd  like  to  look  it  over," 
said  Susan,  somewhat  with  the  air  of  a  Missou- 
rian,  "  so  I  dug  it  out  of  the  library  the  other 
day  and  made  a  careful  study  of  it.  That's 
where  I  made  my  discovery.  And  remember 
what  I'm  telling  you  now,  Harry,  must  never  get 
outside  the  family.  You  mustn't  even  tell  Lucille 
about  it  if  she  becomes  your  wife.  We  must  just 
regard  it  as  one  of  our  family  skeletons  and  keep 
it  locked  up  in  the  Van  Tuyl  closet." 

"  Great  Scott,  Susan  I  What  was  the  scan- 
dal, "  said  Harry,  eagerly.  "  You're  talking 
about  poor  old  grandmother  as  though  she  had 
been  as  immoral  as  those  two  awful  Lady  Georges 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        25 

that  Grandpa  always  speaks  of  in  a  whisper—— 
George  Eliot  and  George  Sand." 

"  Oh,  no,  she  wasn't  a  bit  like  them,"  exclaimed 
Susan  quickly,  as  though  anxious  to  save  her 
Grandmother's  escutcheon  from  any  undue  blot. 
"  Grandma  was  a  married  woman.  The  only 
trouble  with  her  was  she  didn't  marry  until  she 
was  a  very  old  woman,  Harry.  The  record  of 
her  marriage  says  that  she  was  thirty-two,  and 
that  wasn't  the  worst  of  it.  Grandpa,  when  he 
married  her,  was  only  twenty-nine." 

"  Well,  there's  nothing  immoral  about  that." 
"  Immoral !  Of  course  not.  Who  said  such 
a  thing!  But  it's  scarcely  the  sort  of  thing  that 
one's  grandparents  would  wish  their  younger  gen- 
erations to  talk  about.  One  thing  I'm  certain  of, 
Harry,  unless  some  man  marries  me  before  I'm 
thirty-two  I  shall  either  take  the  veil  or  become  a 
beauty  lecturer  and  sell  cold  creams  for  relaxa- 
tion. However,"  continued  Susan,  becoming 
more  serious,  "  the  fact  that  Grandma  was  so 
much  older  than  Grandpa  proves  conclusively  to 
me  that  there  had  been  some  other  woman  in  his 
life.  My  own  opinion  is  that  Grandma  caught 


26  ROMANCE 

him  on  the  rebound.  I  don't  suppose  that  we 
shall  ever  know  the  truth  about  it.  But  it's  ex- 
ceedingly interesting  all  the  same.  Then  there's 
another  thing.  Sometimes  when  Grandpa's  sitting 
by  the  fire  here  at  night  after  I've  finished  reading 
the  Post  to  him  he  will  gaze  into  the  fire  for  half 
an  hour  at  a  time,  looking  at  the  coals  as  intently 
as  though  he  were  seeing  all  his  life  there  in  the 
fireplace.  The  other  night  when  he  was  sitting 
like  that  my  curiosity  got  the  better  of  me.  I 
couldn't  stand  the  silence  any  longer.  So  I  said 
to  him:  '  What  are  you  thinking  about,  Grandpa? 
What  makes  you  look  so  sad?'  And  what  do 
you  think  he  said  to  me,  Harry?  He  turned  to 
me  and  shook  his  head  and  smiled  in  a  whimsical 
sort  of  way  and  then  he  said :  '  I  was  thinking, 
my  dear  Susan,  of  what  a  dreadful  young  prig  I 
used  to  be  before  I  married  your  grandmother. 
It's  a  horrible  thing  to  be  a  prig,  my  dear,  much 
worse,  to  my  mind,  than  to  be  a  sinner.  Your 
friends  will  always  forgive  your  sins,  but  they'll 
never  forgive  your  priggishness.  I  was  even 
worse  than  a  prig,  I  think.  I  had  all  the  arro- 
gance and  ignorance  of  youth  combined  with  the 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        27 

terrible,  unquenchable  enthusiasm  of  the  fanatic. 
There  were  times  in  my  youth,  I  fear,  Susan,  when 
both  my  family  and  friends  must  have  found  me  a 
dreadful  bore.'  And  then,"  continued  the  girl, 
"  I  thought  he  was  going  to  open  up  and  confide 
in  me  and  tell  me  all  about  it.  But  instead  he 
just  closed  those  long,  thin  lips  of  his  very  firmly 
and  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  I  couldn't  get 
another  word  out  of  him.  It  was  maddening. 
That's  one  of  the  things  that  most  vex  me  about 
Grandpa,  he  never  will  quench  my  curiosity.  But 
just  as  he  was  picking  up  his  cane  to  start  upstairs 
he  did  say  this  much,  and  he  must  have  been 
thinking  about  the  man  all  the  time,  for  he  hadn't 
mentioned  his  name  for  at  least  six  months.  As 
he  stooped  to  kiss  me  good  night  he  said:  '  Susan, 
my  dear,  you  and  Harry  have  had  at  least  one 
splendid  ancestor.  I  am  speaking  of  your  grand- 
mother's uncle,  Cornelius  Van  Tuyl.  His  was 
the  biggest,  noblest  nature  I  have  ever  known; 
he  was  a  man  of  the  world.  A  man  of  the  wide, 
wide  world,  my  dear.  There's  a  difference  in 
those  two  phrases  which  some  day,  perhaps  when 
you're  older,  you'll  appreciate.  But  as  for  me 


28  ROMANCE 

I  shall  always  honor  the  memory  of  Cornelius 
Van  Tuyl  and  blush  each  time  —  and  I  am  still 
able  to  blush,  thank  God  —  when  I  remember 
how  I  misjudged  him.'  So  you  see,  Harry,  from 
those  few  remarks,"  concluded  Susan  senten- 
tiously,  "  I  have  gathered  that  at  some  time  in 
their  careers  Grandpa  and  Uncle  Cornelius  must 
have  had  a  frightful  row.  And  it  must  have 
been  about  a  woman,  because  after  all,  when  you 
come  down  to  it,  women  are  the  only  things  that 
men  fight  about  really  seriously.  And  now  for 
me,  Harry,  as  they  say  in  the  novels,  it's  a  case 
of  '  cherchez  la  femme.'  And  I'll  find  her  too, 
even  if  I  have  to  give  dear  old  Grandpa  the  third 
degree." 

Ill 

"  Susan,  you  talk  like  an  idiot,"  exclaimed 
young  Armstrong  patronizingly.  "  However, 
when  I  take  possession  of  the  Van  Tuyl  mansion, 
if  I  find  any  ancient  records  in  the  safe  I'll  let  you 
have  a  peep  at  them  if  they're  not  too  scandalous. 
But  shut  up  now  about  Grandpa's  love  affairs. 
Listen  to  mine.  I've  only  told  you  half  my  news 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        29 

and  the  old  gentleman  will  be  here  in  a  minute." 

"  Well,  what  on  earth  have  you  wasted  all  this 
time  for,  Harry?  "  retorted  Susan.  "That's  the 
worst  of  you  —  you  never  can  keep  to  the  point. 
What's  the  rest  of  it?" 

The  boy  hesitated  for  a  moment;  he  waggled 
one  of  his  legs  nervously  to  and  fro  and  avoided 
his  young  sister's  eye. 

"  Well,  I  told  you  that  I  was  engaged  to  Lu- 
cille, didn't  I  ?  We've  settled  that  point." 

"  Go  on,"  insisted  Susan. 

"  Well  —  I'm  the  sort  of  man,  Susan,  who 
doesn't  believe  in  a  long  engagement.  Father 
ran  away  and  got  married,  you  know,  before  he 
was  twenty-one." 

"  Yes,  and  by  doing  so  he  almost  broke  poor 
Grandpa's  heart,"  rejoined  the  girl  instantly. 
"  It  was  perfectly  shameful  of  him;  I  have  never 
been  able  quite  to  forgive  father  for  that.  If  you 
were  to  do  a  thing  like  that,  Harry,  I'd  never 
speak  to  you  again.  Because  you  know,  now  that 
we're  orphans,  I  really  believe  Grandpa  loves  you 
and  me  better  than  if  we  were  children  of  his  very 


own." 


30  ROMANCE 

"  Well,  don't  worry;  I'm  not  going  to  break  his 
heart  again.  That's  why  I'm  here  to-night. 
That's  why  I'm  coming  in  later  to  have  a  talk 
with  him.  And  that's  why  I  want  you,  Susan,  to 
use  a  little  diplomacy  in  the  meanwhile  and  get  him 
into  one  of  his  gentlest  and  most  benevolent 
moods.  Because  what  I'm  going  to  tell  him  is 
this  —  Susan.  I'm  going  to  marry  Lucille  to- 
morrow afternoon  at  4  o'clock." 

"  To-morrow,"  cried  Susan,  springing  to  her 
feet.  ;t  Why,  you're  mad,  Harry;  what  on 
earth's  the  hurry?  Besides  to-morrow's  New 
Year's  Day.  Oh,  you  mustn't  do  it;  if  you  spring 
a  thing  like  that  on  Grandpa  to-night  why,  it  will 
spoil  the  whole  new  year  for  him.  Only  to-night 
he  was  saying  that  he  would  remember  dear  old 
1912  as  one  of  the  happiest  years  of  his  life  just 
because  you  and  I  have  been  so  much  with  him 
and  helped  to  keep  him  young.  And  now  you'd 
go  and  kill  1913  for  him  by  doing  such  a  crazy 
thing  as  this.  Grandpa's  always  said  that  thir- 
teen was  his  unlucky  number  anyway.  I  think 
you  a  beast,  Harry,  if  you  do.  Wait  until  Feb- 
ruary anyway;  give  the  poor  girl  time  to  get  her 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        31 

trousseau.  If  Lucille  agrees  to  any  such  plan  as 
this  the  least  that  I  can  say  about  her  is  that  she's 
a  little  designing  cat." 

"  Leave  Lucille  out  of  this,  if  you  please. 
This  is  all  my  doing,"  cried  Harry,  angrily. 
"  Lucille's  behaved  like  a  perfect  angel.  Why, 
she  even  says  that  she  won't  consider  herself  en- 
gaged to  me  until  Grandpa's  given  his  consent." 

"  Well,  I  don't  care !  I  think  it's  simply  abom- 
inable of  you,  Harry.  I  won't  raise  a  finger  to 
help  you  now.  I  won't  put  in  one  good  word 
with  — " 

Unheard  by  the  brother  and  sister,  the  door  of 
the  study  had  opened  noiselessly  and  the  old 
Bishop,  leaning  on  his  walking  stick,  stood  smiling 
at  them  both. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter,  youngsters?  "  he  ex- 
claimed cheerily.  "  What's  this,  another  war  in 
the  Balkans  or  merely  a  duel  of  the  Armstrongs? 
Surely  you're  not  coming  to  blows  on  New  Year's." 

"  It's  nothing  to  be  alarmed  about,  Grandpa," 
gasped  Susan  hurriedly.  '  Just  a  little  family  tiff. 
You  see,"  she  added  with  a  significant  smile,  which 
instantly  brought  a  scowl  of  rage  to  the  features 


32  ROMANCE 

of  young  Harry,  "  we  were  rowing  about  a  New 
Year's  present  which  Harry  insists  on  giving  me. 
But  I  haven't  made  up  my  mind  yet  whether  I'm 
going  to  like  it  or  not.  However,  it  was  sweet 
of  you  to  think  of  me,  darling,"  she  added  as  she 
kissed  Harry.  "  Run  along,  now,  for  Grandpa 
and  I  have  heaps  of  things  to  talk  about,  and  we 
haven't  read  our  Evening  Post." 

"  I  won't  be  long,  sir,"  said  Harry,  turning  to 
his  grandfather.  "  I'm  just  going  to  'phone  to 
Tyson's  for  some  theater  tickets  for  to-morrow 
night.  The  theaters  are  so  crowded  on  New 
Year's  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  go  to  the  speculators 
anyway." 

"For  to-morrow  night,  Harry?"  exclaimed 
Susan,  taken  unawares.  "  Why,  I  thought  you 
and  Lucille  had  another  engagement." 

"  Oh,  but  that's  for  the  afternoon,"  retorted 
Harry.  ;t  That  engagement  is  for  four  o'clock, 
Susan,  and  don't  you  forget  it,"  he  added  mean- 
ingly as  he  walked  toward  the  door. 

"  Really!  "  exclaimed  Susan,  lifting  her  eye- 
brows. "  Then  in  that  case,  Harry,  let  your 
little  sister  do  another  good  turn  for  you." 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        33 

She  picked  up  an  evening  paper  from  the  table 
and  hurriedly  turned  to  the  amusement  column. 

"  Let  me  suggest  an  appropriate  play  for  you 
two.  Ah,  yes,  here's  the  very  thing  " —  as  she 
ran  her  finger  down  the  column.  "  *  Years  of  Dis- 
cretion.' " 

"  Thanks  very  much,  old  girl,"  cried  Harry  as 
he  prepared  to  slam  the  door  behind  him.  "  But 
we've  picked  out  our  play  already.  We're  going 
to  the  '  Honeymoon  Express.' ' 

;(  Who  is  this  Lucille  Anderson  that  Harry  is 
always  talking  about  lately?"  asked  the  Bishop 
as,  hobbling  across  the  room  on  his  walking  stick, 
he  let  himself  down  gingerly  into  his  armchair. 
"  Do  you  know  her?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  indeed,  Grandpa,"  replied  Susan  with 
well  simulated  enthusiasm;  "she's  a  perfect  dar- 
ling. I'm  crazy  about  her.  She's  such  a  sweet 
girl,  with  the  loveliest  voice  and  hair.  And  she's 
got  such  a  splendid  influence  over  Harry.  He's 
sobered  down  tremendously  since  he  met  her. 
She's  a  girl  of  such  high  ideals.  Her  father  was 
one  of  the  greatest  lawyers  in  Toronto,  Canada. 
But  he's  dead  now  and  poor  Lucille  is  very  poor 


34  ROMANCE 

and  has  got  to  go  out  in  the  world  and  make  her 
own  living." 

"Humph!"  said  the  Bishop.  "I  hope  she's 
not  a  suffragette.  You're  a  very  subtle  little  per- 
son," he  continued,  smiling  at  her  questioningly. 
"  From  a  remark  that  you  let  fall  just  now  I 
gathered  that  you  consider  either  Lucille  or  Harry 
rather  light  headed." 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  mean,  Grandpa?  "  said 
Susan,  blushing  furiously. 

"  That  play  which  you  suggested  they  should 
go  to.  Tell  me,  my  dear,  why  did  you  pick  out 
1  Years  of  Discretion  '?  " 

"  Oh,  just  because  the  title  sounded  interest- 
ing," added  Susan  lightly.  "  It  was  the  first  one 
I  saw  in  the  list." 

Then,  by  way  of  turning  the  subject,  she  added 
quickly,  "  But  come  along,  Grandpa,  we  haven't 
read  the  paper  yet.  Shall  I  begin?" 

"  Very  well,  my  dear,  just  as  you  like,"  said  the 
Bishop  placidly. 

Susan  complied  with  a  slight  yawn.  "  *  Regula- 
tion of  Skyscrapers.'  '  Drastic  Measures  to  Be 
Taken  by  President  Taft.'  *  Earthquake  in  Apia 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        35 

—  Thousands  Reported  Killed.'  '  Borough  Pres- 
ident Gives  to  Board  of  Estimate  the  Report  on 
Improvements.'  Oh,  dear !  it  sounds  awfully  dull 
to-night,  doesn't  it?  "  said  Susan,  looking  up  from 
the  paper  for  a  moment.  "  That's  the  worst 
about  newspapers.  They're  so  uninteresting  ex- 
cept in  the  society  column  or  when  there's  an  elope- 
ment or  a  divorce  case.  They  never  have  any- 
thing about  anything  one  knows.  That's  why  I'd 
so  much  rather  read  novels.  Because  in  a  novel, 
you  know,  you  always  get  to  know  everybody  in  it 
intimately  before  you  are  half  way  through  the 
book.  Were  you  ever  fond  of  Ouida,  Grand- 
pa?" 

"  Ouida !  "  repeated  the  old  gentleman  as 
though  striving  vainly  to  recall  some  memory. 
"  I  seem  to  recall  the  name.  But  what  was  it,  my 
dear,  a  tooth  powder?  Ah,  no;  I  recollect  now. 
Let  me  see,  wasn't  he  that  automatic  checker 
player  that  never  lost  a  game?  " 

Susan  burst  out  laughing. 

"  Oh,  no,  Grandpa ;  you're  all  mixed  up.  That 
fellow  was  Ajeeb.  He's  still  living.  They've  got 
him  over  in  the  Eden  Musee.  But  Ouida  was  a 


36  ROMANCE 

great  novelist  —  a  great  lady  novelist,  you  know. 
Like  those  two  women  whose  books  you've  forbid- 
den me  to  read,  George  Eliot  and  George  Sand. 
Ouida  wrote  '  Under  Two  Flags  '  away  back  in  the 
'6os  or  '705  somewhere.  The  reason  I  asked  you 
about  her  was  because  in  that  old  diary  of  Grand- 
mamma's you  showed  me  the  other  day  there  was 
quite  a  piece  about  her.  Grandmamma  was  evi- 
dently quite  as  dotty  about  Cigarette  and  Bertie 
Cecil  as  I  am.  For  in  one  place  she  writes :  c  It 
is  now  nearly  four  in  the  morning  and  I  have  just 
concluded  reading  Ouida's  '  Under  Two  Flags,' 
surreptitiously,  for  the  second  time.  I  consider 
this  book  the  most  marvelous  literary  achieve- 
ment of  our  era.  It  has  provided  me  with  the 
greatest  sentimental  treat  of  my  life.  I  only  wish 
I  could  persuade  dear  Tom  to  read  it.  It  would 
certainly  broaden  his  point  of  view." 

"  She  was  an  omnivorous  reader,  your  grand- 
mother, Susan,"  said  the  Bishop  in  a  reminiscent 
tone.  "  We  used  to  have  many  little  squabbles 
about  her  books.  I  never  approved  of  novels  my- 
self, they  seemed  to  me  such  a  waste  of  time.  But 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        37 

as  I  say,  your  grandmother  always  took  a  much 
wider  point  of  view  of  life  than  I.  You  see,  for 
one  thing  she  was  brought  up  in  a  rather  different 
world.  She  was  left  an  orphan  almost  in  her 
babyhood  and  lived  with  her  uncle,  old  Cornelius 
Van  Tuyl.  She  was  brought  up  in  the  great 
house,  which  is  soon  to  be  Harry's  now.  Old 
Van  Tuyl,  you  know,  was  a  very  famous  person  in 
his  way;  quite  the  Ward  McAllister  of  his  period, 
though  to  my  mind  a  much  more  liberal  minded 
man.  His  house  was  the  meeting  place,  not  of 
society  alone  but  of  all  the  noted  men  and  women 
of  his  day.  He  believed  in  the  aristocracy  of 
brains,  my  dear.  I  have  met  Charles  Dickens  fre- 
quently at  his  house.  Now,  there  was  a  real  nov- 
elist for  you,  my  dear.  I  have  always  found  his 
books  most  interesting,  for  even  when  he  dealt 
with  the  lowest  types  of  life  his  works  had  always 
a  moral  and  uplifting  tone." 

"  Oh,  I  shouldn't  have  cared  a  rap  about  meet- 
ing Dickens,"  remarked  Susan  loftily.  "  I  think 
his  whiskers,  which  you  see  in  all  the  pictures  of 
him,  were  simply  hideous.  But  tell  me,  Grandpa, 


38  ROMANCE 

you  who  are  so  fond  of  all  the  old  operas,  didn't 
you  ever  meet  any  of  the  great  singers  or  actresses 
at  his  house?" 

"  A  great  many  of  them  frequented  his  house, 
my  dear,  but  I  met  comparatively  few.  You  see, 
Susan,"  continued  the  Bishop  with  a  whimsical 
smile,  "  I  was  never  what  you  young  people  call  a 
society  man.  I  was  the  rector  of  St.  Giles's  in 
those  days  and  almost  completely  absorbed  in  my 
church  and  mission  work,  sometimes  I  think  too 
much  so  for  my  own  good.  If  I  had  my  life  to 
live  all  over  again  I  should  take  a  broader  view, 
both  of  affairs  and  men.  But  we  live  and  learn, 
my  dear;  we  live  and  learn.  I  can  see  clearly 
now  that  in  many  instances  my  point  of  view  was 
extremely  narrow." 

"  But,  Grandpa,"  said  Susan,  "  surely  you  can 
remember  some  of  the  names  of  these  great  wo- 
men that  you  met  at  Uncle  Van  Tuyl's.  Did 
Adelina  Patti  ever  go  there?  Did  you  ever  meet 
her?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  frequently.  Uncle  Cornelius's  house 
was  the  only  private  residence  at  which  she  ever 
sang  in  New  York.  It  was  a  great  honor,  to  be 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        39 

sure.  I  remember  the  night  well.  Your  grand- 
mother did  the  honors.  *  His  little  Chatelaine,' 
Uncle  Cornelius  used  to  call  her  proudly.  And 
she  certainly  made  a  charming  hostess.  Watch- 
ing you  as  you  preside  at  my  dinner  table  always 
makes  me  think  of  her,  my  dear.  I'm  so  glad 
you  bear  her  name  of  Susan.  You  have  so  many 
traits  in  common,  though  I  must  confess,"  he 
went  on  laughingly,  "  you  are  really  prettier  than 
my  dear  Susan  ever  was.  Susan's  hair  was  quite 
straight.  She  was  never  what  one  might  term  a 
beauty,  but  she  had  charm,  my  dear;  incomparable 
charm.  How  she  would  have  envied  those 
crinkly  little  curls  of  yours,  Susan,"  continued  the 
old  man  smilingly  as  he  ran  his  fingers  playfully 
through  his  granddaughter's  curls.  "  That  was 
always  a  very  sore  point  with  my  poor  Susan  — 
my  curly  hair.  She  used  to  laugh  and  say  that 
there  ought  to  be  a  law  against  it,  some  law  which 
would  prevent  men  from  being  born  with  hair 
which  curled  naturally,  while  poor  women  had  to 
keep  their  hair  in  curl  papers  half  the  night.  And 
then  it  wouldn't  stay  crimped  for  more  than  an 
hour  or  two.  It's  a  very  small  thing  for  an  old 


40  ROMANCE 

man  to  remember,  I  suppose,  little  Susan,"  sighed 
the  Bishop.  "  But  I  was  always  secretly  de- 
lighted at  the  pride  which  your  grandmother  took 
in  my  hair.  It  would  have  proved  a  severe  trial 
to  me  had  I  ever  grown  bald." 

V 

IV 

The  girl  rose  and  went  to  her  grandfather. 
There  were  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she  leaned  lov- 
ingly over  him  and,  stooping,  kissed  one  of  his 
snow  white  curls. 

"  And  if  she  could  see  them  now  she'd  be 
prouder  of  them  than  ever,  Grandpa.  They  were 
never  so  beautiful.  I  shall  always  pray  that  if  I 
live  to  be  an  old  woman  I  shall  have  just  such 
curls  as  yours." 

"  They  were  almost  the  only  thing  I  was  ever 
vain  about,"  pursued  the  Bishop  as  he  patted 
Susan  on  the  cheek.  "  Otherwise  I  was  never  in 
the  least  a  dandy.  I  was  always  so  absorbed  in 
my  work  that  I  never  thought  about  my  clothes. 
I  was  a  dreadfully  untidy  person,  I'm  afraid.  It 
used  to  worry  Susan  a  great  deal.  I  remember 
how  she  used  always  to  be  picking  bits  of  fluff 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        411 

off  my  shoulder.  And  sometimes  even  when  I 
had  remembered  to  do  so  I  used  purposely  to 
leave  my  hair  unbrushed  because  I  always  knew 
that  at  the  first  sight  of  me  she  would  put  my  curls 
in  place  with  her  dear  hand.  She  had  such  beau- 
tiful hands,  Susan,"  the  old  man  went  on  enthusi- 
astically. "  They  were  her  greatest  beauty.  Just 
now,  when  you  touched  me  on  the  forehead,  it 
gave  me  quite  a  little  start,  Susan.  And  your 
voice,  too,  it  is  so  like  hers." 

"  Really,  Grandpa,  I'm  so  proud  to  know  that. 
But  you're  just  flattering  me  to  evade  my  ques- 
tion. Tell  me,  didn't  you  ever  meet  any  of  the 
great  actresses  at  Uncle  Van  Tuyl's?  " 

"  If  I  did  I  have  forgotten  their  names,  my 
dear.  You  see,  I  never  approved  of  the  theater. 
And  there  was  only  one  very  short  period  in  my 
life,  when  I  frequented  it,  and  even  that  was 
under  protest.  I  went  there  simply  to  oblige  a 
very  charming  woman  to  whom  the  theater  was  a 
great  source  of  rest  and  recreation.  " 

Susan  was  now  hot  on  the  trail. 

"  What  was  her  name,  Grandpa?     Do  tell  me." 

"  Let  me  answer  your  question  first,  my  dear," 


42  ROMANCE 

smiled  the  old  gentleman  evasively.  "  You  were 
asking  me  about  the  theater  and  what  I  knew  of 
it.  So  I'm  going  to  tell  you  a  little  story  —  about 
the  first  time  I  ever  stepped  inside  of  one.  It  was 
in  the  gallery  at  Niblo's  Garden  in  —  let  me  see; 
let  me  think " —  and  the  Bishop  cudgeled  his 
brains  for  a  moment.  "  Yes,  it  was  in  '66.  A 
very  notorious  play  was  running  there  then.  They 
called  it  '  The  Black  Crook.'  " 

Susan  jumped  from  her  perch  on  the  arm  of  her 
grandfather's  chair  and  clapped  her  hands. 

"  Why,  Grandpa !  "  she  cried,  unable  to  restrain 
her  delight.  "  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  with  your 
own  lips  that  you  were  a  gallery  god  and  went  to 
see  '  The  Black  Crook  '  ?  Why,  even  I've  heard 
about  how  awfully  broad  it  was.  I  was  reading 
about  it  only  the  other  day  in  an  old  book  in  your 
library  called  '  Sunlight  and  Shadow.'  ' 

The  Bishop  began  to  explain  hurriedly. 

"  I  was  only  there  for  a  very  short  time.  To 
be  exact,  not  more  than  four  minutes.  I  went 
there,  not  out  of  curiosity  but  with  a  very  laudable 
purpose.  I  left  the  very  moment  that  I  had 
achieved  it.  I  had  discovered,  by  accident,  one 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        43 

Saturday  afternoon  that  two  of  my  youngest  and 
most  promising  choir  boys,  who  had  had  their 
imagination  excited  by  the  flaming  posters  and  the 
inflammatory  articles  in  the  daily  newspapers, 
which,  while  they  were  supposedly  denouncing, 
were  in  reality  exploiting  '  The  Black  Crook ' — 
I  heard  by  accident,  I  say,  that  these  two  young- 
sters had  expended  their  pocket  money  in  gallery 
tickets  for  the  performance.  I  had  a  meeting  of 
the  deaconesses  at  the  rectory  that  afternoon,  but 
I  lost  no  time  in  dismissing  them  and  I  hurried  to 
the  theater.  If  those  young  lads  had  been  inside 
a  burning  building  I  could  not  have  rushed  to 
save  them  at  any  greater  speed.  I  tore  up  the 
gallery  stairs;  and  just  as  I  entered  for  one  brief 
moment  I  caught  my  one  glimpse  of  the  stage.  I 
must  confess,  to  be  fair,  that  the  scene  I  saw  was 
very  beautiful  and  not  at  all  demoralizing.  If 
the  rest  of  the  performance,  which,  of  course,  I 
did  not  see,  was  of  an  equal  artistic  caliber,  I 
should  have  always  claimed  that  '  The  Black 
Crook '  had  been  misjudged.  But  from  all  I 
heard  and  gathered  afterward  it  appears  to  me 
that  I  must  have  arrived  at  the  one  psychological 


44  ROMANCE 

moment  when  the  play  was  above  reproach.  The 
stage  was  empty  except  for  one  figure  —  a  beauti- 
ful young  woman  dressed  in  very  short  white  tarla- 
tan ballet  skirts.  She  was  standing  apparently  on 
one  toe.  Her  arms  were  waving  gracefully  in  the 
air  above  her  head,  and  as  I  stood,  entranced  and 
forgetful  of  my  boys  for  the  moment,  she  executed 
the  most  graceful  series  of  postures  imaginable. 
She  was,  I  discovered  afterward  what  is  called 
the  '  premiere  danseuse  absoluta.'  Her  name  was 
Louise  Bonfanti." 

"What!  "  cried  Susan,  in  amazement.  "You 
don't  mean  the  little,  graceful,  fat,  old,  Italian 
dancing  teacher,  who  still  gives  lessons  uptown! 
Why,  Grandpa,  I've  met  her.  Why  last  year 
when  we  got  up  the  kirmess  for  the  working  girls' 
home  she  stage  managed  all  our  dances  for  us.  I 
know  her  well." 

"  And  so  do  I,"  replied  the  Bishop,  looking  his 
granddaughter  smilingly  in  the  eye :  "  that's  the 
reason  I  told  you  the  story.  But  let  me  finish  it; 
it's  got  a  moral.  Well,  I  caught  my  boys, 
dragged  them  home,  gave  them  a  sound  scolding 
and  set  them  to  reading  '  Tales  of  a  Grandfather  ' 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        45 

for  punishment.  That  I  thought  was  the  end  of 
the  matter,  but  it  wasn't  by  a  very  long  way." 
And  the  Bishop  wagged  his  head  deprecatingly  at 
the  reminiscence.  "  The  next  morning  to  my 
amazement,  the  newspapers  were  ablaze  with 
the  story.  I  remember  some  of  those  headlines 
even  yet,  my  dear.  The  Herald  ran,  *  Fervid 
young  rector  plucks  two  boyish  brands  from  the 
burning.'  The  Sun  said,  '  The  Rev.  Thomas 
Armstrong  defies  the  gods  and  rescues  two  of  his 
choir  boys  from  the  wiles  of  Bonfanti.'  Even  the 
Evening  Post,  which  you're  holding  in  your  hand 
now,  my  dear,  devoted  several  lines  to  the  matter, 
and  was  the  only  paper  in  all  New  York  which 
entirely  upheld  me  in  my  peremptory  action. 
The  other  papers  as  a  rule  rather  favored  the 
boys.  Persons  who  understand  theatrical  matters 
always  insisted  afterward  —  your  Uncle  Van  Tuyl 
in  particular,  I  remember  —  that  I  was  the  inno- 
cent cause  of  the  success  of  '  The  Black  Crook.' 
However,  I  think  that  was  an  exaggeration," 
smiled  the  Bishop.  "  I  should  scarcely  like  to 
have  that  crime  upon  my  conscience.  But  from 
all  I  read  of  theatrical  performances  to-day,  my 


46  ROMANCE 

dear,  I  think  that  by  comparison  the  poor  old 
'  Crook '  would  seem  quite  insipid.  But  to  my 
story!  Mme.  Bonfanti  achieved  a  world-wide 
reputation,  as  you  know.  I  had  not  heard  her 
name  mentioned  for  more  than  thirty  years,  when 
only  a  few  months  ago,  when  I  was  attending  a 
meeting  of  the  working  girls'  home,  it  happened 
that  a  number  of  the  young  women  were  rehears- 
ing for  some  sort  of  benefit.  They  seemed  to 
be  learning  a  dance  of  some  kind,  when  suddenly 
I  happened  to  hear  one  of  them  refer  to  their  in- 
structress as  Mme.  Bonfanti.  I  turned  and 
looked  at  her  closely.  There  was  no  mistake. 
It  was  she.  I  recognized  her  instantly.  The 
youth  was  gone  and  the  tarlatan  skirts,  but  from 
behind  her  spectacles  there  still  gleamed  those 
wonderful  eyes.  There  was  still  a  fire  and  an 
elusive  charm  in  them.  And  though,  to  be  sure, 
she  was  stout,  she  was  still  graceful  in  her  move- 
ments. And  then  her  gestures!  Each  time  she 
moved  her  little  gloved  hand  it  was  the  epitome 
of  grace.  And  then  I  thought  of  my  sciatic  back, 
my  dear,  and  my  old  creaky  knee  joints,  and  I 
groaned  inwardly  and  I  said  to  myself :  '  There 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        47 

must  be  some  hidden  secret  of  youth,  known  only 
to  the  stage,  which  keeps  its  votaries  so  young. 
I  wish  we  poor,  crippled  old  clergy  could  fathom 
it.5  " 

"  But  didn't  you  speak  to  her?  Didn't  you  even 
say  how  d'ye  do?  Why,  how  rude,  Grandpa, 
after  all  these  years!  " 

"  But,  remember,  we  had  never  met  before. 
How  could  I  speak  to  her?  We  had  never  been 
introduced.  But  at  all  events  she  forestalled  me. 
The  moment  the  young  women  whispered  who  I 
was  she  turned  upon  me  beamingly  and  held  out 
both  her  hands.  The  curtsey  which  she  dropped 
me,  Susan,  was  exquisite  in  its  grace.  Bowing's  a 
lost  art  in  these  days,  it  seems  to  me.  And  as  she 
held  her  hands  out  and  smiled  so  radiantly  she 
said,  in  her  pretty  broken  English  —  I  have  al- 
ways been  very  fond  of  broken  English  when  it  is 
spoken  by  a  woman  with  a  musical  voice  — '  My 
dear  Bishop,'  she  cried.  *  All  my  life  —  ever 
since  the  time  I  was  eighteen  year  old  and  played 
in  "  The  Black  Crook  "  at  Niblo's  Garden  —  I 
have  prayed  and  hoped  for  the  great  honor  of 
meeting  you.  I  have  watch  your  career  with  the 


48  ROMANCE 

ver-ry  greta  interest,  and  when  many,  many  year 
ago  they  made  you  a  Bishop  I  was  oh,  so  proud, 
so  proud!  Without  you,  my  dear  Bishop,  La 
Bonfanti  might  have  become  just  only  a  memory, 
instead  of  as  I  am  now,  an  institution.'  Then  we 
laughed  and  chatted  for  some  moments  and  finally 
as  we  shook  hands  and  said  good-by  she  laughed 
and  called  after  me,  '  Remembair,  Bishop,  I  have 
those  newspaper  cleepings  yet.' ' 

V 

"  I  merely  mentioned  this  little  incident  to  you, 
my  dear,  to  show  you  how,  with  the  best  intentions 
in  the  world,  one  may  misjudge  another  in  this 
life,"  pursued  the  Bishop.  "  My  one  short  actual 
meeting  with  Mme.  Bonfanti  completely  upset  all 
my  mental  conceptions  of  her.  All  her  life  she 
had  probably  been  thinking  of  me  as  some  mad, 
intolerant,  religious  fanatic,  while  to  me  she  had 
always  remained  that  radiant  young  creature  in 
the  tarlatan  skirts,  standing  on  one  toe.  I  may, 
in  my  arrogance,  have  regarded  her  as  a  lost  soul, 
but  now  that  we  have  met  I  think  we  both  know 
better.  Each  has  changed  the  estimate  of  the 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        49] 

other  somewhat,  perhaps.  Old  age  levels  many 
prejudices.  But  I  should  like  to  know  how  she 
keeps  so  young." 

11  And  the  two  choir  boys,  Grandpa  ?  "  inter- 
rupted Susan.  "What  became  of  them?  Did 
they  survive  *  Tales  of  a  Grandfather,'  or  did  they 
live  unhappy  ever  after  from  being  thus  deprived 
of 'The  Black  Crook'?" 

"  Strangely  enough  a  year  or  two  later,  my 
dear  child,  these  very  boys,  unknown  to  them- 
selves, saved  your  grandfather  from  a  far  worse 
fate  than  would  have  befallen  them  if  they  had 
witnessed  a  score  of  performances  of  '  The  Black 
Crook.'  They  were  still  in  my  choir  at  St.  Giles's 
and  oddly  enough  to-day  is  the  anniversary  of  the 
occurrence.  It  took  place  on  New  Year's  eve, 
1868.  In  those  days  we  celebrated  the  coming 
of  the  new  year  more  quietly  than  you  do  now. 
The  chimes  were  always  rung  at  old  Trinity  and 
the  streets  were  thronged  with  merry-makers  as 
they  are  now.  But  the  whistles  and  the  tin 
horns  were  not  so  much  in  evidence.  You  see 
we  followed  more  the  fashion  of  the  old  English 
*  Waits.'  1  he  choirs  from  the  different  churches 


50  ROMANCE 

would,  in  long  procession,  march  through  the  city 
streets  singing  carols.  It  was  a  pretty  old  custom 
and  it  ushered  in  the  new  year  with  a  greater 
show  of  respect  and  reverence  than  usually  greets 
it  now." 

"But  what  happened  that  night,  Grandpa?'' 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  Bishop  somewhat  shortly, 
"  it's  not  a  story  for  your  pretty  little  girlish 
ears.  You  asked  about  the  choir  boys  and  I 
mentioned  this  incident  just  to  show  you,  as  the 
old  hymn  says,  that  '  God  moves  in  a  mysterious 
way  His  wonders  to  perform.'  Come,  now,  let 
us  have  some  music." 

"  The  incident  is  closed,"  sighed  Susan  to  her- 
self. Then  aloud  she  asked,  "  What  record  shall 
we  start  with,  Grandpa?  '  Caro  Nome?'" 

"  Anything  you  like,  dear,  so  long  as  it  isn't 
too  sad,"  said  the  Bishop. 

Susan  adjusted  the  record  and  opened  wide  the 
two  little  doors  of  the  Victrola. 

"  Listen,  Grandpa !  "  cried  the  girl  as  she  stood 
aside  to  listen.  "  Isn't  that  a  splendid  record?  " 

"Yes;  it  is  rather  a  fine  voice,"  said  the  old 
gentleman.  "Who  is  the  singer?" 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        51 

"  Why,  Grandpa  1  Do  you  mean  to  say  you 
don't  recognize  that  voice?  It's  Tetrazzini"  an- 
swered Susan  and  her  voice  took  on  a  tone  of  al- 
most reverence. 

"  She  has  a  good  method  and  some  fine  notes," 
said  the  Bishop,  turning  musical  critic  for  a  mo- 
ment. "  Ah !  my  dear,  you  should  have  heard 
Adelina  Patti  sing  it  at  the  Academy  in  '72. 
That  was  a  marvelous  voice  of  hers;  she  was  a 
wonderful  artist,  Mme.  Patti;  with  one  exception 
the  most  wonderful  singer  I  ever  heard." 

"And  who  was  that,  Grandpa?"  asked  his 
granddaughter  eagerly. 

"  Oh,  don't  think  I  am  decrying  Patti  for  a 
moment,"  replied  the  Bishop,  quite  ignoring  Su- 
san's query.  "  From  a  technical  point  of  view  I 
suppose  her  singing  was  perfect,  but,  to  my  mind, 
there  was  a  certain  tenderness  and  warmth  lack- 
ing in  her  voice  which  always  made  the  singing  of 
Margarita  Cavallini  quite  incomparable  to  me." 

"  Oh,  but,  Grandpa,"  protested  Susan  with 
some  fire,  "  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me,  young  as 
I  am,  that  our  Melbas  and  Destinns  and  Farrars 
aren't  every  bit  as  fine  singers  as  your  Cavallinis 


52  ROMANCE 

and  your  Pattis  and  your  Crisis.  While  as  for 
Caruso  —  now  you  must  know  perfectly  well, 
Grandpa,  that  there  never  has  been  such  a  tenor 
since  the  world  began.  Everyone  admits  that!  " 

The  Bishop  smiled  and  shook  his  head  with  an 
air  of  unconverted  pride. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  "  you  must  remember  / 
have  heard  Mario." 

Susan,  squelched  for  the  moment,  had  no  word 
to  say.  Experience  had  taught  her  that  there 
were  certain  subjects  upon  which  it  was  just  as 
well  not  to  argue  with  her  grandfather.  So  for 
a  few  moments  the  old  man  and  the  girl  listened 
to  "  Caro  Nome  "  in  silence. 

The  clock  on  the  study  mantelpiece  chimed  the 
half  hour  after  ten  and  the  Bishop  in  his  easy 
chair  gave  a  deep  sigh  as  though  the  striking  of 
the  chimes  had  just  recalled  to  him  how  fast  the 
old  year,  1912,  was  hurrying  to  its  close. 

As  the  record  wheezed  its  way  into  silence  the 
Bishop  sighed  again  and  said : 

"  What  a  pity  it  is,  Susan,  that  Thomas  Edison 
could  not  have  been  born  fifty  years  earlier. 
Think,  my  dear,  of  the  voices  which  this  great  in- 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        53 

vention  of  his  might  have  preserved  imperishable 
for  all  posterity.  There  were  vocal  giants  in  my 
day,  Susan  —  golden  nightingales  now  silenced 
forever  or,  more  tragic  yet,  cracked  and  broken 
with  the  rust  of  age.  I  remember  once  some  fif- 
teen or  twenty  years  ago,  when  the  phonograph 
was  first  perfected,  reading  in  some  newspaper  a 
very  pretty  little  story  about  one  of  your  new 
singers  —  Emma  Calve,  I  think  it  was.  She  had 
left  the  man  she  was  engaged  to  behind  in  Paris 
when  she  came  here  and  every  week  when  the  mail 
boat  came  in  she  shut  herself  up  in  her  hotel 
apartments  just  to  listen  to  his  voice.  For,  you 
see,  they  corresponded  entirely  by  phonograph; 
they  talked  and  sang  all  their  love  letters  to  each 
other  week  by  week.  And  ever  since  I  read  that 
newspaper  paragraph  I  have  thought  what  an  in- 
estimable joy  it  would  have  brought  to  an  old 
man  like  me  if  by  just  opening  the  two  little  doors 
of  that  Victrola  and  adjusting  the  waxen  scroll  I 
could  have  heard  once  more  those  dear  dead 
voices  of  my  youth.  I  don't  mean  only  the  great 
dead  voices;  I  mean  the  voices  which  were  near- 
est and  dearest  to  me  —  your  grandmother's,  for 


54  ROMANCE 

instance.  How  I  should  love  at  this  very  mo- 
ment to  hear  her  singing  her  favorite  hymn !  She 
had  a  very  sweet  contralto  voice,  had  Susan;  but 
she  played  wretched  accompaniments,  poor  dear. 
I  suppose  that  was  because  she  studied  at  that 
Springier  Institute,  of  which  I  never  approved." 

"  What  was  the  hymn,  Grandpa  ?  "  asked  Su- 
san gently. 

"  It  was  one  of  the  old  Ancient  and  Modern, 
and  it  had  a  low  setting,  which  suited  her  voice 
extremely  well.  I  can  almost  hear  her  singing 
it  now." 

The  Bishop  drew  a  long  breath  and  began  to 
hum  as  though  half  to  himself: 

Christian,  dost  thou  see  them 

On  the  Holy  Ground? 
How  the  troops  of  Midian 

Prowl  and  prowl  around? 
Christian,  up  and  smite  them, 

Counting  gain  but  loss; 
Smite  them  by  the  merit 

Of  the  Holy  Cross. 

The  Bishop's  voice  died  away  slowly.  Pres- 
ently Susan  turned  to  him  and  asked:  "What 
were  the  troops  of  Midian,  Grandpa?  That's 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        55 

one  of  the  strange  things  about  hymns  to  me. 
I've  known  them  so  long  and  I've  sung  them  so 
often  that  I  never  know  what  I'm  singing  about. 
Tell  me!  Who  and  what  were  the  troops  of 
Midian?  For  honestly,  Grandpa,  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  ever  since  I  was  about  nine  years  old  and 
you  taught  me  that  hymn  I've  always  thought  of 
them  as  being  a  sort  of  Old  Testament  comic 
opera  company  which  Moses  or  Methuselah  or 
some  other  old  patriarch  had  told  to  keep  off  the 
grass." 

The  Bishop  burst  out  laughing  in  spite  of  him- 
self. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Susan,  when  I  was  a 
youngster  that  was  just  about  my  opinion  of  them, 
too.  Later,  of  course,  when  I  grew  older  and 
more  bigoted,  we'll  say,  the  troops  of  Midian 
came  to  mean  any  group  of  worldly  people  or 
even  those  theologians  who  differed  with  my  re- 
ligious points  of  view." 

"  That  means  about  everybody  who  wasn't  an 
Episcopalian,  eh,  Grandpa?"  remarked  Susan. 

"At  one  time  —  perhaps,  my  dear,"  admitted 
the  Bishop.  "  But  as  I  grew  older  and  came 


56  ROMANCE 

more  and  more  under  the  influence  of  your  grand- 
mother I  learned  to  take  a  wider  and  more  altru- 
istic point  of  view." 

"  And  now,  Grandpa,"  cried  Susan,  springing 
up  gayly,  "  it  seems  to  me  it's  about  time  I  gave 
you  my  New  Year's  present.  I  didn't  know  what 
on  earth  to  get  you,  so  what  do  you  suppose  I 
got?  And  do  you  know  why  I  got  it  for  you, 
Grandpa?"  she  went  on  unheedingly.  "I  tried 
to  think  of  something  which  would  make  you  very, 
very  soft  and  sentimental  —  something  that  would 
put  you  almost  in  a  Bavarian  cream  sort  of 
mood." 

"  My  dear  child,  I  assure  you,"  laughed  the 
Bishop,  "  that's  almost  my  condition.  I'm  just 
running  over  the  sides  of  the  dish,  little  Miss 
Twentieth  Century." 

"  That's  a  new  name  I  Why  do  you  call  me 
that?  "  and  Susan  forgot  all  about  the  present  for 
the  moment. 

"  Because,  my  dear,  you  have  always  repre- 
sented the  twentieth  century  to  me.  That  was  the 
first  name  I  ever  called  you.  You  probably  don't 
remember  it,  Susan,  but  you  were  the  first  living 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        '57 

thing  I  laid  my  eyes  on  New  Year's  morning, 
1900.  You  must  have  been  a  little  over  two,  Su- 
san, just  able  to  toddle  about  comfortably  by  your- 
self and  show  your  old  grandfather  the  way  he 
should  go  in  this  new  century  to  which  he  doesn't 
seem  quite  to  belong." 

"  But  do  you  mean  to  say,  Grandpa,  you  never 
saw  me  until  I  was  as  old  as  that?  And  Harry 
—  why,  Harry  must  have  been  seven  by  then,  at 
least.  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  had  never  seen 
either  of  us  when  we  were  real  babies?  " 

"  Never,  dear.  That  has  been  the  bitterest 
punishment  of  my  life,  Susan  —  the  loss  of  both 
your  babyhoods.  That's  one  reason  why  I've 
tried  so  hard  to  make  up  to  both  of  you  since,  my 
dear.  I  have  never  spoken  of  this  matter  to 
either  of  you  for  fear  it  would  make  you  hate  me. 
Sometimes  I  think  that  Harry  suspects  the  truth, 
Susan.  Bear  with  me  and  forgive  me  as  well  as 
you  can." 

For  censure  the  young  girl  snuggled  on  the  arm 
of  his  chair  and  kissed  his  white  curls  reassuringly. 

Clearing  his  voice  the  Bishop  went  on  slowly: 
"  I  was  sitting  in  this  very  chair,  Susan,  when  one 


58  ROMANCE 

night,  my  Harry  —  your  father  that  was  to  be 
—  rushed  in  here  and  without  any  preparation 
told  me  that  he  had  run  away  and  got  married. 
I  was  furious.  There  was  a  quarrel  —  in  which 
I  know  now  I  was  entirely  in  the  wrong.  Harry 
went  out  of  the  room  slamming  the  door  behind 
him  and  declaring  he  would  never  enter  my  home 
again.  He  never  did,  poor  boy  —  that  was  all 
my  fault  too.  He  and  your  mother  went  to  New 
Orleans,  where  he  got  employment.  Little 
Harry  was  born  there  and  so  were  you.  But  even 
the  coming  of  you  children  did  not  melt  the  frost 
which  had  gathered  round  my  heart.  It  was  not 
until  the  yellow  fever  carried  off  your  father  and 
your  mother  within  three  days  of  each  other  that 
I  realized  the  enormity  of  what  I  had  done.  I 
sent  for  you  at  once.  I  was  very  ill  when  you  ar- 
rived on  New  Year's  eve.  Remorse,  contrition 
and  the  righteous  wrath  of  the  Almighty  had  laid 
me  low.  That  afternoon,  ill  as  I  was,  I  made 
the  nurse  carry  me  from  my  bedroom  into  the 
study  here,  for  every  new  year  since  my  mar- 
riage I  had  seen  dawn  in  this  old  room.  They 
made  a  bed  for  me  on  the  couch  and  the  nurse 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        59; 

left  me.  I  was  sleeping  soundly  long  before  the 
old  year  had  passed  out  and  when  I  woke  the 
sun  was  shining  in  the  windows  and  the  new  cen- 
tury was  just  six  hours  old.  Before  I  could  move 
or  even  mentally  salute  the  new  year  there  was  a 
gentle  tap  at  my  door.  '  Come  in,'  I  said.  The 
door  was  opened  just  a  chink  and  I  saw  the 
nurse's  hand  push  you  gently  inside.  The  door 
closed  to  and  there  you  stood,  dear,  with  one  fin- 
ger stuck  debatingly  in  your  mouth.  For  a  mo- 
ment we  two  looked  silently  at  each  other,  and 
there  was  such  a  look  of  unconscious  mercy  and 
of  tenderness  in  your  sweet  eyes  that  I  always  felt 
that,  all  unconsciously,  perhaps,  you  knew  all  and 
forgave  me  everything  even  then.  *  I'm  your  lit- 
tle Toosan,'  you  said  by  way  of  introduction,  and 
feeble  as  I  was  I  limped  from  my  bed  toward  you 
and  I  gathered  you  into  my  arms,  crying,  '  You're 
my  little  New  Century,  my  dear! ' 

"  And  ever  since,"  continued  the  Bishop,  "  for 
twelve  years  now  —  you  have  guided  this  poor 
relic  of  an  older  era  through  the  mazes  of  your 
new  century.  I  feel  like  a  stranger  within  your 
gates.  And  I  have  watched  you  grow  and  bios- 


60  ROMANCE 

som,  dear,  and  thanked  God  that  I  had  you  here 
to  keep  me  within  your  gentle  leading  strings. 
For  what  should  I  do  without  you,  Susan;  what 
should  I  do  without  you?  You  are  my  eyes  when 
I  tire  of  reading;  it  is  you  who  soothes  my  ears  at 
night  with  all  the  old  songs  I  love  —  for  even  if 
you  do  not  actually  sing  them  to  me  you  manipulate 
the  Victrola  better  than  anyone  else  can.  But  it's 
when  I'm  out,  at  large  in  this  great  maelstrom 
which  they  call  New  York  now  —  it's  then  that  I 
miss  and  appreciate  you  most.  It's  then  that  I  feel 
lost  and  all  at  sea.  The  taxis  make  me  nervous, 
the  rush  and  the  swirl  of  Broadway  bewilders  me 
completely.  And  then  the  old  landmarks  —  all 
gone,  my  dear,  all  gone !  Look  at  Union  Square ! 
Tiffany's,  Brentano's,  both  flown  uptown;  Spring- 
ier Institute  vanished  completely;  the  old  Everett 
House  has  been  razed  so  long  —  four  or  five  years 
at  least!  —  that  you  young  people  have  forgotten 
that  there  ever  was  such  a  famous  hostelry,  just 
as  you  are  quite  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  once 
upon  a  time  Union  Square  boasted  a  high  iron 
railing.  Only  the  other  day,  just  before  Christ- 
mas, I  walked  slowly  up  Fifth  avenue  and  turned 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        61 

west  at  Fourteenth  street  to  go  to  Macy's  to  buy 
my  gifts  as  I  have  done  for  nearly  fifty  years  — 
Macy's  was  gone,  my  dear.  There  was  no  trace 
left  of  the  old  shop.  I  should  have  remembered 
that  they  had  moved  uptown  years  ago.  But  I  had 
forgotten.  It  gave  me  almost  a  shock  when  I 
realized  it.  I  felt  that  I  had  lost  still  another 
old  friend  and,  walking  home  again,  feeling  quite 
disconsolate,  the  one  sight  which  was  left  to  glad- 
den my  heart  was  the  old  Van  Buren  mansion, 
standing  serene  and  staunch,  like  some  stately 
dowager,  oblivious  of  all  its  commercial  neighbors 
and  its  dingy  surroundings.  I  clutched  the  iron 
fence  with  a  vigorous  clasp.  It  was  like  shaking 
hands  with  an  old  comrade  whom  I  hadn't  seen 
since  the  war.  And  then  when  I  turn  my  eyes 
heavenward  those  dreadful  skyscrapers  obliterate 
all  the  dear  old  spires.  St.  Giles's  steeple  still 
holds  its  own  but  its  contemporary,  St.  George's, 
has  been  shorn  of  both  its  old  brown  towers. 
You  can't  see  the  time  of  day  on  Stuyvesant 
Square  any  more  unless  you  have  a  watch !  Then 
when  I  go  to  Staten  Island  it's  the  same  story. 
Why,  it's  all  that  my  poor  old  eyes  can  do  to  iden- 


62  ROMANCE 

tify  the  Produce  Exchange  building  —  once  the 
proudest  edifice  on  the  water  front  —  from  the 
forest  of  skyscrapers  that  surround  it." 

"  But  there's  Liberty,  Grandpa,"  exclaimed  Su- 
san. "  Don't  forget  our  Lady  of  the  Eternal 
Torch." 

"  Quite  true.  She  is  still  there,  my  dear  — 
and  the  sea!  God  bless  the  sea.  It  has  its 
moods  and  tenses;  but  it's  always  there.  It  does 
not  go  in  for  innovations." 

"  Grandpa,  I  don't  think  it's  good  for  you  to 
1  look  back '  so  much.  What  do  you  say  to  hear- 
ing my  present.  I  had  almost  forgotten  it.  It's 
the  latest  Destinn.  You  know,  as  I  told  you  just 
now,"  pursued  Susan,  "  I've  got  some  news  to 
tell  you,  and  before  I  break  it  to  you  I  want  you 
to  be  very,  very  soft.  I  have  an  idea  this  will 
make  you  so." 

Susan  began  to  hum  "  Connais  —  tu  le  pays," 
very  softly  to  herself  as  she  adjusted  the  record. 
Then  as  Destinn's  voice  swelled  out  in  the  Ger- 
man version  of  the  song  the  girl  paused  to  watch 
the  melody's  effect  upon  her  grandfather. 

"  Kennst  du  so  wohl?" 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        63 

"  Please,  please,  Susan !  not  that  song,"  he  cried 
almost  irritably.  "  It's  been  running  in  my  head 
all  day  for  some  reason  or  other.  Stop  it,  Susan 
—  please!  It  makes  me  sad.  I  may  be  very 
foolish,  but  I  would  rather  not  hear  it  to-night." 

Susan  stopped  the  record  abruptly. 

"  I'm  so  sorry.  I  thought  you'd  like  it, 
Grandpa.  I  picked  it  out  especially  for  you,  be- 
cause you've  always  said  you  were  so  fond  of 
{  Mignon.'  I  went  to  the  trouble,  too,  of  looking  it 
up  in  '  The  Prima  Donna's  Album  '  just  to  learn 
what  it  meant  in  English.  But  the  words  are  aw- 
fully stupid  translated,  don't  you  think? 

Knowest  thou  that  fair  land 

Where  the  oranges  grow 
Where  the  fruit  is  of  gold 

And  so  fair  the  rose? 

Now  to  me  that  sounds  awfully  flat,  perfectly  as- 
inine. I  don't  wonder  it  makes  you  melancholy. 
But  who  was  it  used  to  sing  it  in  your  day, 
Grandpa?  "  went  on  the  girl  inquisitively.  "  Let 
me  see  now!  What  was  her  name?  Sounds 
something  like  our  own  Cavallera?  Ah!  yes, 


64  ROMANCE 

Cavallini;  that  was  it.     Was  she  very  wonder- 
ful, Grandpa?  " 

"  Matchless.  Incomparable,"  said  the  Bishop 
rather  shortly.  "  Suppose,  now,  for  a  change, 
my  dear,  we  have  a  little  of  Harry  What's-his- 
name.  You  know  the  man  I  mean  —  the  Scotch- 


man." 


"Harry  Lauder?  Certainly,"  said  Susan,  dis- 
carding the  hapless  "  Mignon  "  record  and  put- 
ting the  Scotchman's  most  famous  ditty  in  its 
place.  "  This  ought  to  cheer  you  as  well  as  a 
cocktail,  Grandpa.  Listen  I  " 

I  love  a  lassie, 

A  bonnie,  bonnie  lassie, 

She's  as  pure  as  the  lily  in  the  dell: 

She's  as  sweet  as  the  heather, 

The  bonnie  purple  heather, 
Mary,  my  Scotch  bluebell! 

The  swing  of  the  song,  its  lilting  rhythm  and 
the  quaint  side  remarks  of  the  Scotchman  between 
the  verses  worked  marvels  with  the  Bishop's  dol- 
drums. They  vanished  like  a  mist  before  the  sun. 

Susan  sighed  to  herself  profoundly  as  one  who 
had  accomplished  something  in  the  way  of  a  mir- 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        65 

acle  as  she  saw  the  smiles  breaking  out  on  the  old 
man's  happy  face. 

The  Bishop  kept  time  to  the  music  with  his  cane 
and  also  with  his  least  rheumatic  foot.  Presently 
he  grew  bolder  and  joined  bravely  in  the  chorus. 
At  his  request  Susan  turned  the  record  on  for  the 
second  time. 

"  And  you  a  Bishop  of  the  Episcopal  Church 
applauding  a  Presbyterian  like  that  I  Why, 
Grandpa,  I'm  amazed  at  you." 

"  It's  a  very  good  song  and  it's  very  well  sung. 
I  should  like  to  shake  hands  with  Mr.  Lauder  one 
of  these  days.  It  seems  to  me  that  he  must  be  a 
man  of  a  very  liberal  nature  and  jovial  disposi- 
tion —  the  Tony  Pastor  of  Scotland,  as  it 


were." 


"  Well,  there's  a  new  one  on  me !  "  exclaimed 
Susan.  "  I  never  heard  his  name  before.  Who 
was  he,  Grandpa,  this  Tony  Pastor?  A  basso  or 
a  pantomime  man?" 

The  Bishop  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  one  with- 
out hope. 

"  Oh,  my  dear.  Are  you  really  serious?  And 
he  not  dead  ten  years!  Is  it  possible  that  the 


66  ROMANCE 

children  of  this  generation  don't  know  the  name 
of  Tony  Pastor?     Such  is  fame!  " 

VI 

"  Never  mind  telling  me  about  him  now, 
Grandpa,"  interrupted  Susan,  as  the  Bishop  was 
about  to  explain.  "  I  have  something  to  say 
to  you,  dear  —  something  which  I'm  afraid  you 
are  not  going  to  like  very  much,  Grandpa.  I've 
been  trying  to  break  it  gently  to  you  all  the  even- 
ing." 

The  Bishop  smiled  and  looked  at  Susan  rather 
curiously. 

"  I  like  everything.     It's  my  greatest  fault !  " 

"  Well,  I  like  that!  "  laughed  Susan.  "  What 
about  Wagner?  " 

u  Ah !  yes.  Everything,  except  Wagner.  You 
are  quite  right,  Susan.  Wagner  I  cannot  stand." 

"  Well,  I  doubt  if  you  can  stand  this  either." 

"  Suppose  you  give  me  a  try." 

«  Well  —  it's  about  Harry." 

"  Harry !  "  echoed  the  Bishop.  "  What  about 
Harry?  " 

"  He's  gone  and  done  it." 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        67 

Susan  decided  to  rush  matters.  She  poured 
out  the  balance  of  her  information  without  paus- 
ing once  for  breath. 

"  I  mean,  Grandpa,  he  hasn't  really  gone  and 
done  it,  because  he  naturally  won't  do  anything 
without  her  and  she  says  she  won't  do  a  thing  un- 
til you  have  given  your  consent  and  told  them  that 
it's  all  right,  so  that's  why  Harry  wanted  to  speak 
to  you  to-night  —  and  you  mustn't  breathe  a  word 
about  my  telling  you  —  you  see  he  wants  to  do 
that  entirely  himself;  but  I  thought  I'd  better 
break  it  to  you  gently." 

Susan  paused  for  breath  and  then,  still  gasping, 
she  added  as  quickly  as  she  could: 

"  Don't  you  think  I  was  wise,  Grandpa  —  to 
break  it  to  you  gently?  " 

The  Bishop  patted  her  hand  tenderly  and 
smiled  anew. 

"  You  haven't  broken  it  at  all,  my  dear.  I 
haven't  the  remotest  idea  what  you  are  talking 
about." 

"  Why,  grandpa,"  exclaimed  Susan  in  astonish- 
ment. "  I've  just  told  you  —  Harry's  engaged 
to  a  girl  named  Lucille  Anderson." 


68  ROMANCE 

"  Ah  I  I  must  be  getting  deaf.  Dear  me !  I 
begin  to  see  light  on  many  things  now.  That  is 
why  you  were  suggesting  that  they  should  go  to 
*  Years  of  Discretion.'  Who  is  Lucille  Ander- 
son? Is  she  so  very  young  in  your  opinion  that 
she  doesn't  know  her  own  mind?" 

"  Well,  that's  just  it,  you  see.  She  is  quite 
young  —  just  about  Harry's  age,  I  should  think. 
And  then  there's  another  thing,  Grandpa.  Lu- 
cille's  an  artist." 

"You  mean  she  paints?"  asked  the  Bishop. 

"  No,  she  doesn't  exactly  paint,"  explained  his 

granddaughter.     "  You  know  there  are  all  sorts 

and  kinds  of  artists,  Grandpa ;  and  Lucille's  art  is 

—  er  —  a   very  beautiful  art.     It's  the   art  of 

^-er  — " 

"Well,  my  dear?"  queried  the  Bishop. 

11  The  art  of  —  er  —  impersonation  on  the 
stage." 

"  An  actress  I  "  exclaimed  the  Bishop  quickly, 
though  not  in  a  hostile  tone.  He  seemed  a  little 
taken  aback,  that  was  all.  It  was  Susan  who  ap- 
peared nervous.  She  kept  clasping  her  hands  to- 
gether and  blinking  her  eyes  incessantly. 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        69 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  nervously.  "  She's  an 
actress  —  but  a  very  young  one,  Grandpa.  And 
then,"  she  continued  in  a  more  reassuring  tone, 
"  after  all  it  makes  very  little  difference  nowa- 
days. Heaps  of  nice  girls  have  gone  on  the 
stage." 

"  An  actress !  "  repeated  the  Bishop  in  a  gentle, 
ruminating  tone.  "  Strange  how.  history  — "  he 
stopped  abruptly  and  looked  at  Susan.  "  Did  I 
understand  you  to  say  you  liked  her,  my  dear?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  Grandpa;  immensely,"  Susan 
plunged  into  rhapsody  without  a  qualm. 
Wouldn't  Harry  have  done  just  as  much  for  her 
under  the  same  conditions?  "  Don't  you  remem- 
ber, I  told  you  only  a  few  minutes  ago.  She's 
charming;  perfectly  lovely,  and  —  and  —  her  in- 
fluence over  Harry  is  really  the  finest  thing  I've 
ever  seen.  He  really  begins  to  think  sensibly 
about  serious  things  now.  And  it's  all  due  to 
Lucille,  every  bit  of  it.  And  think,  Grandpa! 
She  has  positively  refused  to  consider  herself  en- 
gaged to  him  until  you've  given  your  consent. 
Once  you  see  her  I  know  you'll  love  her  dearly. 
And  then,  remember,"  she  went  on  coaxingly, 


70  ROMANCE 

"  even  if  she  wasn't  everything  we  wanted  Harry's 
wife  to  be  —  which  she  is,  mind  you,  for  already 
I  love  her  —  still,  even  if  she  wasn't,  Harry  loves 
her  and  we've  just  got  to  stand  by  him,  Grandpa, 
haven't  we?  Because,  remember,  dear,  he's  our 
own  Harry,  isn't  he?  And  —  well,  you  know 
as  well  as  I  do  he's  all  we've  got." 

This  impassioned  plea  was  a  little  too  much  for 
Susan.  She  buried  her  head  on  her  grandfath- 
er's shoulder  and  all  of  a  sudden  —  and  very 
much  to  her  own  disgust  —  she  began  to  cry. 

As  for  the  Bishop,  much  to  Susan's  secret  aston- 
ishment, he  had  never  appeared  more  placid,  more 
completely  serene.  It  was  this  amazing  attitude 
on  the  Bishop's  part  which  caused  Susan  to  get  a 
grip  on  herself. 

"  That's  just  what  I  am  remembering,  dear," 
said  the  Bishop,  drily.  "  Harry  always  did  have 
very  little  sense." 

Susan  raised  her  head  reproachfully  from  the 
handkerchief  with  which  she  had  been  surrepti- 
tiously mopping  her  eyes. 

!<  Why,  Grandpa !  I  don't  see  how  you  can 
say  such  a  thing  as  th^t  about  Harry.  I'm 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        71 

amazed  at  you !  "  she  went  on  reproachfully. 
"  Didn't  he  play  quarterback  on  the  varsity? 
And  didn't  you  say  yourself  that  that  took  a  whole 
lot  of  brains?  " 

"Did  I?"  smiled  the  Bishop,  patting  Susan 
affectionately  on  the  shoulder.  "  Well,  this 
proves  that  I  was  mistaken,  doesn't  it,  my  dear?  " 

"  Well,  even  if  you  are !  You're  not  going  to 
desert  me  now  and  go  back  on  Harry,  are  you? 
You  simply  couldn't  do  it,  Grandpa.  It  isn't  in 
you." 

The  Bishop  drew  her  to  him  ardently. 

"  Desert  you !  "  he  cried,  and  the  tears  stood 
in  his  eyes.  "  My  little  Susan,  why,  what  in  the 
name  of  common  sense  do  you  take  me  for?  Lis- 
ten, dear.  Let  me  make  a  confession.  I  am  not 
such  an  old  fool  as  I  look.  Do  you  think  I 
haven't  been  watching  Master  Harry?  Do  you 
imagine  for  a  moment  that  I  don't  know  all  the 
symptoms?  Don't  you  credit  your  old  grand- 
father with  just  the  least  little  bit  of  '  gumption,' 
my  dear?  I  love  that  dear  old  New  England 
word  '  gumption,' '  said  the  Bishop  suddenly, 
changing  his  tone  and  speaking  as  though  to  him- 


72  ROMANCE 

self.  "  It  may  be  slang;  I  don't  know,  but  at 
all  events  there's  no  other  word  in  the  English 
language  which  at  this  moment  expresses  just 
what  I  mean  so  well.  Don't  you  think  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  I'm  a  Bishop  and  have  lived  for 
seventy-two  years  that  I  still  know  just  the  least 
little  bit  about  life?  And  do  you  think  in  spite 
of  everything,  even  if  Lucille  Anderson  should 
prove  to  be  the  original  Witch  of  Endor,  do  you 
think  that  I  could  desert  you  now,  you,  my  little 
cicerone,  my  wisdom  cap  who  has  led  me  by  her 
gentle  hands  all  through  the  years  and  pitfalls  of 
this  bewildering  new  century?  Why,  I'd  be  a 
renegade,  Susan,  a  deserter,  a  Judas,  something 
to  be  taken  out  and  shot  at  dawn,  if  I  left  you 
now.  No  matter  what  Master  Harry  has  done 
or  intended  to  do,  why,  Susan,  my  dear,  if  it  were 
necessary  there  would  be  only  one  thing  left  for 
me  to  do  —  perjure  myself  like  a  gentleman,  as 
the  late  King  Edward  did,  and  look  pleasant 
about  it  too.  That  particular  branch  of  quixotry 
belongs  to  your  grandmother's  side  of  the  family 
rather  than  mine,  my  dear.  But  I  think  on  some 
strenuous  occasion  I  might  imitate  it,"  continued 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        73 

the  Bishop,  smiling  volubly.  "  Because  once,  a 
very  long  time  ago,  your  great  grand-uncle  Cor- 
nelius Van  Tuyl  set  me  a  superb  example.  I 
heard  it  with  my  own  ears  and  ever  since,  in  spite 
of  all  our  differences,  I  have  always  mentally 
coupled  King  Edward  and  Cornelius  Van  Tuyl 
together.  They  perjured  themselves  like  gentle- 


men." 


VII 

Susan  was  bewildered.  Her  grandfather,  for 
all  her  much  vaunted  wisdom,  might  as  well  be 
talking  Greek  to  her.  She  marveled  at  the 
change  which  had  come  over  him  —  the  fire  which 
had  come  into  his  eyes,  the  enthusiasm  and  vigor 
which  his  manner  and  his  gestures  showed.  Two 
decades  at  least  in  his  excitement  seemed  to  have 
fallen  from  him  like  a  garment.  For  the  first 
time  in  her  short  career  Susan  found  herself  com- 
pletely nonplussed. 

<f"And  here's  something  else  which  I  must  say 
to  you  and  which  you  won't  understand !  "  ex- 
claimed the  Bishop.  "  They  say  that  Shakes- 
peare never  repeats.  Well,  my  child,  in  the  Arm- 


74  ROMANCE 

strong  family  there  has  never  been  a  Shakespeare 
—  worse  luck!  None  of  us  except  your  grand- 
mother, who  was  a  Van  Tuyl  —  has  ever  been 
accused  of  being  literary.  But  if  Shakespeare 
never  repeats,  history  most  certainly  does,  my 
dear.  That's  what  I'm  thanking  God  for  at  this 
moment,  in  a  way  which  you,  little  Susan,  can 
never  know  or  realize.  God  has  been  good  to 
your  old  grandfather!"  cried  the  Bishop  excit- 
edly. "  He  has  given  me  another  chance.  *  All 
that  happens,  happens  again.'  That's  an  old 
proverb  which,  for  the  first  time,  I  know  to-night 
to  be  true.  There  was  another  night  long  ago, 
Susan,  when  your  father  —  my  Ha-rry  —  came 
to  me  as  your  Harry  is  coming  now.  Only  his 
story  was  in  a  measure  different.  He  had  not 
waited  to  ask  my  consent.  He  had  taken  his  love 
affairs  into  his  own  hands.  But  the  setting  was 
practically  the  same.  Here  was  I  in  this  chair,  his 
judge  —  cold,  satirical,  just  for  the  moment  om- 
nipotent, and  the  poor  lad  sat  there,  full  of  his 
love  for  his  young  wife,  loyal  to  her,  passionate, 
imperious,  hating  me  for  misjudging  her  and  yet 
longing  with  every  fiber  of  his  brave  young  soul 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        75 

that  I  would  hold  my  hand  out  and  befriend  them 
both.  But  I  didn't  do  it,  Susan.  God  help  me, 
I  didn't  do  it.  And  he  passed  out  of  that  door 
and  it  was  the  end  —  the  end  of  everything  be- 
tween us,  as  you  know.  And  now  to-night,  thirty 
and  more  years  later,  here's  history  repeating  it- 
self. Here's  the  good  Lord  giving  me  a  chance 
to  redeem  myself.  So  don't  fear  for  your  Harry 
to-night,  little  Susan.  He's  your  brother;  and 
more  than  that,  he's  your  father's  son.  I,  his 
grandfather,  lie  under  a  double  obligation. 
Trust  me,  dear."  And  the  Bishop  held  out  his 
hand  to  Susan,  as  though  he  were  confirming  some 
compact  with  a  man  of  his  own  age.  "  Whether 
he's  right  or  wrong  I  shall  deal  very  gently  with 
Harry.  But  I  shall  be  politic,  too.  If  without 
sternness  I  can  save  him,  Susan,  I  shall  do  it. 
But  if  I  discover  that  it's  a  love  match,  not  even 
you,  dear  little  girl,  will  prevent  me  from  indors- 
ing it  and  giving  them  my  blessing.  But  if  I 
think  that  I  can  still  persuade  Harry  from  doing 
a  foolish  thing,  then  trust  to  me,  dear,  I  shall  play 
a  trump  card  —  the  only  one  I  have.  For  his 
sake  —  and  for  yours,  too,  I  shall  tell  him  a  story 


76  ROMANCE 

which  has  been  locked  in  my  breast  for  forty-four 
years  —  a  story  which  I  never  expected  to  tell  to 
any  living  man." 

Somewhere  out  in  the  corridor  a  door  slammed 
violently.  It  was  Harry  returning  home.  Both 
Susan  and  the  Bishop  knew  that  this  was  often  a 
manner  of  his  when  perturbed  or  excited  —  to 
slam  the  door. 

"There's  Harry  now!"  exclaimed  Susan, 
feverishly. 

"  Run  along,  dear,"  said  the  Bishop,  serenely. 
"  And  don't  worry,  child.  Come  back  in  half  an 
hour  to  see  the  New  Year  in,  and  in  the  meantime 
remember  your  old  grandfather's  not  going  to  let 
history  repeat  itself." 

"  Here  I  am,  sir!  "  exclaimed  Harry,  entering 
breezily,  and  Susan,  as  she  threw  one  furtive 
glance  at  them  from  the  doorway  cried  as  she  left 
them  hurriedly: 

"  Now,  remember,  dears.  It's  New  Year's 
Eve  —  there's  peace  on  earth  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing.  Don't  fight.  Grandpa  won't,  I  know,  but 
I'm  awfully  afraid  of  you,  Harry." 

"Well,  Harry,  so  here  you  are  at  last!"  ex- 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY       ,77, 

claimed  the  Bishop  genially  as  the  door  closed  be- 
hind Susan.  "  We'd  almost  given  you  up,  Susan 
and  I.  What  detained  you?  Couldn't  you  get 
your  theater  tickets  ?  " 

"No,  sir;  not  a  seat  to  be  had  in  town.  It's 
an  outrage,  the  way  these  speculators  hold  you  up 
on  all  the  holidays,"  said  Harry,  rather  nervously. 
"  So  I  paid  a  call  instead.  I  went  to  see  Lucille, 
sir.  I'm  sorry  if  I  kept  you  waiting." 

"  Not  at  all,  my  dear  boy,"  said  the  Bishop, 
good-naturedly.  "  It's  a  pretty  old  custom,  New 
Year's  calls,  even  if  one  pays  them  as  you  have,  a 
few  hours  ahead  of  time;  but  I  fear  it's  gone  out, 
like  the  good  old  fashion  of  sending  Christmas 
cards.  I'm  glad  to  think  that  you're  preserving 
the  traditions,  Harry." 

Then  changing  his  tone  somewhat  abruptly,  the 
Bishop  said: 

"  What  about  our  little  chat,  Harry?  " 

Harry  was  nervous  —  palpably  nervous. 
*  You're  quite  sure  your  rheumatism  isn't  both- 
ering you  too  much  to-night?     To-morrow  would 
do  as  well,  Grandpa,  if  you're  not  feeling  quite 
up  to  the  handle,  you  know." 


78  ROMANCE 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!"  exclaimed  the  Bishop. 
"  I'm  feeling  as  fit  as  a  fiddle,  my  boy  —  never 
felt  better  in  my  life.  Your  sister  Susan  has 
played  all  my  aches  away  with  Harry  Lauder. 
So  put  another  log  on  the  fire  and  go  ahead." 

"  All  right,  sir,"  said  Harry,  as  he  placed  the 
log  on  the  burning  coals,  and  then  turned  ab- 
ruptly to  his  grandfather.  "  Grandpa,"  he  said, 
with  both  hands  thrust  desperately  into  the  pock- 
ets of  his  dinner  coat,  "  I  have  something  I  want 
to—" 

The  Bishop  interrupted  him  gently. 

"  Just  a  moment,  Harry,"  he  said.  "  If  you 
go  to  my  desk  and  open  the  second  drawer  from 
the  top  on  the  left  hand  side  I  think  you'll  find 
a  box  of  cigars." 

The  boy  rose  from  his  chair  and  crossed  the 
room  to  his  grandfather's  desk  and  drew  out  the 
box. 

"Thank  you,  Harry;  won't  you  have  one?  I 
know  they're  not  as  good  as  yours,"  smiled  the 
Bishop  deprecatingly.  "  But  then,  remember, 
I'm  not  a  prospective  millionaire  like  you.  I  can't 
afford  the  'very  best  brands." 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        79 

"  Thank  you,  Grandfather,  but  I  don't  feel  like 
smoking  just  now.  You  see,  this  matter's  too  im- 
portant. I've  come  to  you,  sir,  in  order  to  — " 

"  Er  —  pardon  me,  Harry,"  interrupted  the 
Bishop  gently.  "  Just  one  moment !  I  haven't 
a  match." 

"  Oh,  lord !  Excuse  me,  sir,"  exclaimed 
Harry,  digging  into  his  trousers  pocket  for  his 
match  safe.  "  There,  now  I  Is  that  all  right, 
sir? "  as  he  lighted  his  grandfather's  cigar. 
"  Now,  I  want  to  tell  you  what's  on  my  mind, 
sir.  It's  been  there  for  some  time  and  —  I  — 
I—" 

"Yes?"  said  the  Bishop  in  a  kindly,  question- 
ing tone. 

Harry's  embarrassment  was  increasing  every 
moment. 

"  I  think  I  ought  to  —  to  get  it  off,  sir.  It's 
been  bothering  me  for  some  time.  And  I  think 
it's  only  fair  to  you,  Grandfather,  before  I  do 
anything  definite,  that  I  should  make  a  clean 
breast  of  it  to  you." 

"  Well,"  said  the  Bishop  encouragingly. 
"That  sounds  fair,  Harry." 


8o  ROMANCE 

"  You  see  —  it's  this  way,"  began  the  boy. 
But  suddenly  he  seemed  at  a  loss  for  words. 

"  What  way?  "  said  the  Bishop  mildly. 

"Hang  it!  Grandpa,  I  don't  know  just  how 
to  put  the  thing  to  you,  but  —  but  —  but — " 

Harry  looked  up  suddenly  and  caught  the 
Bishop  smiling. 

"Well,  I'll  be  — darned!  You're  on!  I  be- 
lieve you've  been  on  all  the  time." 

"  You're  a  mind  reader,  Harry,"  chuckled  the 
Bishop.  "Your  intuition  is  overwhelming;  but 
on  the  other  hand  it's  quite  correct.  As  you  say, 
my  dear  boy  —  I'm  on." 

Harry  cast  a  wrathful  look  toward  the  door  — 
a  glance  which  was  obviously  intended  to  wreak 
vengeance  on  the  absent  Susan. 

"  I  might  have  known!  "  he  exclaimed  surlily; 
"  no  girl  could  keep  a  secret !  " 

11  Ah  I  But  it  was  all  my  fault,  Harry,"  in- 
terrupted the  Bishop  hastily.  "  Poor  Susan  was 
adamant  —  absolutely  adamant !  I  wrung  it  out 
of  her.  I  twisted  her  arms ;  I  —  I  even  kicked  her 
shins.  Really,  you  mustn't  blame  Susan,  Harry. 
It  was  all  my  fault." 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        81 

Harry's  face  expressed  his  profound  disgust. 

"Yes I  And  now  you're  making  fun  of  me! 
Well—" 

He  straightened  himself  up  and  glared  at  his 
grandfather  defiantly. 

The  Bishop  suddenly  grew  very  tender.  He 
stretched  his  hand  out  and  touched  the  boy  af- 
fectionately on  the  arm. 

"  No,  I'm  not  making  fun  of  you,  Harry  — 
not  a  bit,  my  boy.  I  think  it's  fine  of  you  to 
come  to  me  this  way,  outspoken  and  above  board. 
You're  making  me  think  of  another  night  in  this 
very  room,  when  your  dear  father,  my  Harry,  came 
to  me  with  a  story,  perhaps  a  good  deal  like 
yours.  And  I  was  a  brute  to  him,  my  boy.  I 
have  never  forgiven  myself.  I  — " 

"  But  wait,  sir.  Just  let  me  speak  for  myself 
now,"  the  boy  blurted  out.  "  I'm  on  the  level, 
and  so  is  Lucille,  and  all  I  want  now  is  to  be 
perfectly  frank  with  you.  I  wanted  to  tell  you 
myself  about  Lucille.  Susan  had  no  business  to 
tip  you  off,  sir.  That's  a  peculiar  thing  about  me. 
I  don't  like  anybody  to  butt  in  on  my  private 
affairs." 


82  ROMANCE 

"  Of  course  I  know  how  you  feel,  my  dear  boy, 
but  please  don't  blame  Susan.  I  was  the  culprit. 
My  insatiable  curiosity  dragged  the  truth  from 
her.  But  tell  me  about  Lucille  now,  Harry. 
You  must  love  her  a  great  deal." 

"  Well,  of  course  I  do,"  said  Harry,  a  little 
sulkily. 

"And  she's  very  pretty,  isn't  she?"  pursued 
the  Bishop. 

Harry's  face  brightened. 

"Did  Susan  tell  you  that?"  he  asked  eagerly. 

"  No  " —  and  the  Bishop  shook  his  head  vigor- 
ously. "  I  just  guessed  it  —  that's  all." 

"  And  she's  awfully  clever,  too !  "  exclaimed 
the  boy  enthusiastically.  "  She  can  act  like  a 
streak.  Why,  Grandpa,  Franklin  Sargent  told  me 
himself  that  he  hadn't  had  a  cleverer  pupil  since 
Helen  Ware  was  graduated  there.  And  then 
she's  got  such  bunches  of  character!  She's  just 
full  of  principle!  Why,  when  it  comes  down  to 
cases,  sir,  she's  a  million  times  too  good  for  me !  " 

The  Bishop  leaned  forward  and  patted  the  lad's 
hand  once  more 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        83 

"  Of  course  she  is  —  of  course  —  of  course!  " 
said  the  old  man  corroboratively. 

"  I  met  her  at  the  Randalls  —  you  know  Rand- 
all, that  painter  fellow.  And  now  she's  all  alone 
in  a  rotten  boarding  house  on  Tenth  Street  and  she 
has  no  work,  because  I  simply  wouldn't  allow  her 
to  go  on  as  a  '  flapper '  at  the  Winter  Garden. 
And  her  family  are  all  dead,  and  if  she  doesn't 
finish  her  course  at  the  school  of  acting  her  artistic 
career  will  be  ruined  —  so  I  really  think  I  ought 
to  marry  her  right  off.  Don't  you  think  so? 
Don't  you  agree  with  me?  " 

The  boy  paused  and  looked  anxiously  at  his 
grandfather. 

"Well,  now,  don't  you!" 

"  Just  a  moment,  Harry,"  said  the  Bishop  curi- 
ously. "  Let  me  interrupt  you  for  one  second. 
What  is  a  —  flapper?  " 

"  Oh,  a  flapper!  "  exclaimed  Harry,  irritated  at 
the  interruption.  "  A  flapper  —  let  me  see." 
He  cudgeled  his  brains  for  a  moment.  "  Why,  a 
flapper  is  a  London  Gaiety  Theater  term  for  what 
we  call  a  *  broiler  '  or  a  '  pony  ' —  you  know,  a 


84  ROMANCE 

pretty  girl,  very  young,  who  can  dance  a  bit." 

"Ah!  I  understand,"  said  the  Bishop. 

"  Of  course,  she  never  intended  to  do  anything 
like  that  for  a  moment — even  if  I  hadn't  come 
in  and  put  my  foot  down !  "  exclaimed  Harry. 
"  But  don't  you  think  I'm  doing  right,  Grandpa, 
in  marrying  her  right  away?" 

The  Bishop  roused  himself  with  a  slight  effort 
and  leaned  forward  in  his  chair. 

"  I'm  not  quite  sure,  Harry.  You  see,  you're 
so  young  —  both  of  you.  You're  just  beginning 
life,  and  you  may  change  and  grow,  my  dear  boy 

—  she,  as  well  as  yourself.     As  for  you,  Harry, 
there  may  come  a  time  when  you'll  need  more  than 
any  little  actress  can  give  you  — " 

Harry  made  a  slight  movement  of  impa- 
tience. 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right  now,"  pursued  the  Bishop, 
"because  you  love  her  —  I  know  that!  But  are 
you  quite  sure,  Harry,  that  you'll  always  love  her 
just  the  way  you  love  her  now?  Are  you  certain 
that  nothing  hidden  in  the  future  —  or  in  the  past 

—  can  ever  shake  your  faith  in  her  and  beat  you 
down  and  break  your  heart?" 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        8$j 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  sir,"  exclaimed 
Harry. 

"  You  must  be  very,  very  sure,  my  boy,"  con- 
tinued the  Bishop  gravely,  "  or  else  you're  not 
fair  to  yourself  —  and  what's  worse  —  I'm  afraid 
you're  not  fair  to  her." 

"Oh,  what's  the  good  of  talking?"  the  boy 
burst  out  impatiently.  "  I  just  knew  it  would  be 
this  way !  There's  absolutely  no  use  trying  to  do 
things  with  my  family  —  they're  all  alike,  nar- 
row, conventional,  dry  as  dust!  " 

He  turned  away  from  his  grandfather  suddenly 
and  walked  angrily  across  the  room. 

"If  only  dad  and  mother  were  alive,  they'd  un- 
derstand !  " 

The  Bishop  winced. 

"  Don't  say  that,  Harry.  You  know  I've  done 
my  best  for  Susan  and  for  you." 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that,  Grandpa,"  said  the 
boy  penitently.  "  But  you  see  it's  an  awfully  long 
time  now  since  you  were  young,  and  I  think  it's  sort 
of  hard  for  you  to  remember  back  —  and  sympa- 
thize with  a  fellow.  Oh,  I  know  you're  awfully 
wise,"  he  went  on  quickly.  "  And  you  can  see 


86  ROMANCE 

clear  through  people  and  understand  them  that 
way,  and  you're  a  great  student  of  human  nature 
and  all  that,  but  this  is  different.  I  —  I  —  don't 
believe  you  ever  felt  the  way  I'm  feeling  now  — 
and  —  oh,  well !  What's  the  use  of  talking  about 
it.  Thanks  for  trying,  Grandpa  —  I  won't  keep 
you  up  any  longer !  " 

The  boy  started  toward  the  door. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Harry?"  cried  the 
Bishop. 

"I'm  going  to  get  married  I"  exclaimed 
Harry  defiantly. 

"To-night?" 

"  Yes !  To-night  —  or  to-morrow.  I  got  the 
license  this  afternoon." 

"  Come  here,  Harry,"  said  the  Bishop,  almost 
sternly,  "  and  please  shut  the  door." 

Harry  obeyed  without  a  word  and  resumed  his 
seat  beside  his  grandfather. 

By  this  time  the  Bishop,  much  to  Harry's  sur- 
prise, was  chuckling  softly  to  himself. 

14  What's  the  joke,  Grandpa?  I  don't  see 
any!  "  exclaimed  the  boy  querulously.  "  I  never 
felt  more,  serious  in  my  life." 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        87 

"  Pardon  me,  Harry.  I  wasn't  ridiculing  you. 
Far  from  it,"  said  the  Bishop.  "  I  was  merely 
thinking  of  an  old  friend  of  mine  —  by  the  way 
he  was  a  bishop,  too  —  he  died  only  a  few  years 
ago,  full  of  good  works;  a  noble  man  through  all 
his  life,  he  had  given  all  his  powers  and  service 
to  his  church  and  people.  But  he  was  scarcely 
what  one  would  have  termed  a  wit,  and  yet,  curi- 
ously enough,  in  spite  of  all  his  good  works,  his 
philanthropies  and  his  achievements,  he  will  be 
known  in  history  on  the  strength  of  his  one  bon 
mot.  A  young  relative  of  his  —  a  nephew,  if  I 
remember  right,  married  an  actress.  Everyone 
expected  the  Bishop  to  storm  and  rage,  but  like  a 
wise  man  he  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  He  was  a 
philosopher,  Harry.  He  merely  smiled  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said,  '  Actresses  will 
happen  in  the  best  regulated  families.'  It's  only 
now,"  smiled  the  Bishop,  "  when  I  find  myself  in 
a  similar  predicament,  that  I  realize  how  very 
wise  that  saying  of  my  old  friend  was." 

"  Well,  I  don't  see  what  that's  got  to  do  with 
my  case,"  cried  Harry,  more  indignant  than  ever 
as  he  started  toward  the  door  again.  "  If  you're 


88  ROMANCE 

trying  to  make   a  joke  of  Lucille   and  me  — " 

"  Hush,  Harry,"  said  the  Bishop,  decisively. 
"Don't  be  foolish,  lad;  come  and  sit  down  here. 
No,  not  in  that  chair,  where  I  have  to  turn  my  head 
to  look  at  you,  but  here  in  front  of  me,  on  the 
footstool,  where  the  fire  lights  up  both  our  faces; 
there  where  your  dear  father  sat  the  last  time 
that  I  ever  saw  him." 

"  But  what  more  is  there  to  be  said,  sir?  "  ex- 
postulated Harry,  as  he  took  his  seat  upon  the 
footstool.  "You've  expressed  your  opinion; 
you've  relieved  your  mind.  You're  against  us." 

"No,  I'm  not,  Harry  —  don't  say  that!  Be 
fair,"  said  the  Bishop.  "  You  said  just  now  I 
couldn't  look  back  and  remember  how  I  felt  when 
I  was  young.  Well,  I  do  remember,  Harry;  be- 
lieve me,  I  do !  Because  no  matter  how  old  one 
grows  there  is  always  something  which  keeps  a  little 
youth  still  burning  in  one's  heart." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Harry,  contritely. 
"  I  just  lost  my  temper  for  a  moment.  I  didn't 
mean  to  hurt  you,  Grandpa." 

"  You  didn't,  my  dear  boy,"  smiled  the  Bishop. 
"  But  you've  made  me  think  of  something  that  I 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        89. 

had  almost  persuaded  myself  I  had  quite  forgot- 
ten. It  all  happened  so  long  ago,  Harry,  and  yet, 
strangely  enough,  all  to-day  for  the  first  time  in 
many  years  the  whole  eposide  has  been  constantly 
in  my  mind.  Perhaps  the  dying  of  the  old  year 
has  made  me  sentimental;  I  don't  know,  perhaps 
that's  it.  At  all  events,  it's  something  I  have  never 
told  to  anyone  —  I  used  to  think  I  never  would, 
Harry.  In  fact,  I  made  a  vow  to  that  effect  as 
I  remember,  but,  as  —  well !  times  change.  I 
didn't  realize  then  I  was  to  have  a  grandson  like 
you,  Harry,  of  whom  I  might  make  a  confidant. 
I  wonder  if  you've  got  time  to  wait  and  hear 
about  it?  " 

Harvv  oeered  at  his  grandfather  rather  distrust- 
fully. 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  hear  your  story,  sir," 
he  said  grimly.  "  But  if  you  think  there's  any- 
thing in  it  that's  going  to  change  my  mind  about 
marrying  Lucille  you  might  as  well  stop  right 
here." 

The  Bishop  rose  with  difficulty  from  his  chair 
and  limped  slowly  across  the  room  towards  his 
desk.  Harry  sprang  to  his  feet. 


90  ROMANCE 

"  What  is  it,  Grandpa  ?  Can't  I  get  it  for 
you?" 

A  twinge  in  his  back  made  the  Bishop  pause 
midway  across  the  room  and  give  vent  to  a  poig- 
nant "Ouch!" 

"  Your  rheumatism  bad  to-night,  sir? "  said 
Harry  sympathetically. 

In  spite  of  the  pain  the  Bishop  turned  and  smiled 
benignly  on  his  grandson. 

"  Don't  mention  rheumatism  now,  my  boy!  " 

He  had  reached  the  desk  and  was  fumbling  in 
his  pocket  for  his  bunch  of  keys.  As  he  spoke 
again  he  half  closed  his  eyes. 

"  Remember,  I'm  only  twenty-eight  years  old, 
Harry;  only  twenty-eight  years  old!  " 

He  opened  the  lower  drawer  and,  after  groping 
among  its  contents,  he  drew  forth  a  small  ma- 
hogany box. 

"  Do  you  know  what's  in  this  little  box,  Harry?  " 
said  the  Bishop,  fondling  the  box  reverently  as  he 
held  it  in  his  hand. 

"No,  sir;  what  is  it?"  said  Harry.  "The 
family  jewels?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  Bishop,  with  a  radiant  smile. 


SUSAN  BREAKS  IT  GENTLY        91 

"  It's  more  precious  than  jewels,  Harry;  and 
rarer,  too !  It's  romance,  my  boy  —  the  perfume 
of  romance !  " 

"  How  do  you  mean,  sir?  I  don't  quite  follow 
you,"  said  Harry. 

"  Look!  "  said  the  Bishop. 

He  opened  the  box  and  took  out  tenderly  a 
little  wisp  of  yellow  lace. 

"  Why,  it's  a  handkerchief !  "  said  Harry,  awed. 

"  Yes,"  nodded  the  Bishop,  speaking  as  though 
half  to  himself.  "  A  little  handkerchief !  That's 
all." 

He  opened  it  and  from  its  folds  there  dropped 
a  few  crisp  and  withered  flowers. 

"  White  violets !  "  he  exclaimed  as  he  held  them 
in  his  hand  and  sniffed  at  them,  then  sighed  and 
shook  his  head,  and  dropped  them  back  into  the 
box.  "  They're  dry  and  yellow  now  —  their 
sweetness  is  all  gone  —  I'm  an  old  man,  Harry  — 
but  somehow  —  why,  it  seems  only  like  yesterday." 

:' What  does,  sir?  "  said  the  boy,  wonderingly. 

The  Bishop  turned  out  the  desk  lamp  and  hold- 
ing the  box  very  tenderly  in  his  hands  crossed  to 
his  seat  before  the  fire. 


92  ROMANCE 

"  Ah !  That's  what  I'm  going  to  tell  you  now. 
Sit  down,  Harry.  Are  you  comfortable  there? 
That's  right.  Well,  it  was  over  forty  years  ago 
—  forty-five  would  be  nearer  the  mark.  How  the 
time  does  fly !  —  and  I  was  the  young  Rector  of 
St.  Giles,  you  know;  that  was  before  I  married 
your  grandmother  —  God  bless  her !  Although 
I  had  known  her  nearly  all  my  life.  Well,  Harry, 
one  night  —  in  November,  it  was,  I  went  to  an 
evening  party  at  old  Cornelius  Van  Tuyl's  and 
there  in  the  kaleidoscope  of  music  and  beauty  and 
fashion,  the  great  adventure  of  my  life  began." 


'THE  TROOPS   OF  MIDIAN ' 
CHAPTER  I 

MR.  CORNELIUS  VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  THE  NUM- 
BER OF  HIS  GUESTS  BY  ONE 

My  thoughts  at  the  end  of  the  long,  long  day 
Fly  over  the  years  and  far  away. 
—"  The  Troops  of  Midian"  by  Edward  Sheldon. 

LIGHTS  blazed  from  all  the  windows  of  tEe  old 
Van  Tuyl  mansion.  Fifth  Avenue,  all  the  way 
from  Washington  Square  to  Fourteenth  Street, 
seemed  to  be  fully  aware  that  some  event  quite 
out  of  the  ordinary  was  in  the  air.  That  Cornelius 
Van  Tuyl  was  about  to  give  one  of  his  famous 
musical  soirees  was  a  self-evident  fact;  for  there, 
down  the  long  stoop  of  the  old  mansion,  was  tHe 
wide  strip  of  red  velvet  carpet  and  the  famous 
red  and  white  striped  canopy  which  all  Fifth  Ave- 
nue living  south  of  the  Hotel  Albemarle  had  long 
since  learned  to  know.  Whenever  that  famous 
canopy  and  its  attendant  carpet  made  its  appear- 

93 


94  ROMANCE 

ance  the  denizens  of  all  the  fashionable  and  un- 
fashionable boarding  houses  of  the  town  the  next 
morning  devoured  the  fashion  notes  of  their  news- 
paper with  an  avidity  which  they  never  displayed 
for  their  matutinal  stewed  prunes.  For  even  the 
Charity  Ball  itself  never  elicited  more  elaborate 
and  minute  descriptions  from  the  newspapers  than 
any  festivity  which  took  place  at  Cornelius  Van 
Tuyl's.  It  was  not  because  he  was  a  man  of 
fashion  or  because  of  his  great  wealth,  his  splen- 
did charities  or  his  sybaritic  inclinations  that  these 
entertainments  of  his  always  received  such  wide 
publicity.  The  man  was  a  personality,  that  was 
all.  "  Cornelius  Van  Tuyl  is  unique.  He  never 
does  anything  like  anyone  else,"  used  to  be  said 
of  him  in  every  quarter. 

But  to-night,  as  many  theatergoers  from  Wai- 
lack's,  where  "  The  Lancashire  Lass  "  was  playing, 
wended  their  way  homeward  across  Fifth  Avenue, 
it  was  not  of  "  Corny "  Van  Tuyl,  the  town's 
political  idol,  they  paused  to  speak  as  they  caught 
sight  of  the  gay  canopy.  The  name  on  every  lip 
that  night  was  Margherita  Cavallini  —  Cavallini, 
the  young  Italian  opera  singer,  who  six  weeks  be- 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS     95 

fore,  fresh  from  her  European  triumphs,  had 
swept  into  the  Academy  of  Music  in  "  Mignon  " 
and  captured  all  the  town. 

To  the  newspapers,  which  had  vied  with  each 
other  in  heralding  her  triumph;  to  the  musical 
critics,  who,  for  want  of  more  appropriate  phrases 
had  hailed  her  as  "  The  Golden  Nightingale  "  or 
the  "  Grand  Opera  Lotta,"  and  to  those  other 
enthusiasts  who,  from  their  seats  in  the  boxes  and 
the  orchestra  had  bombarded  her  every  appearance 
with  fusillades  of  flowers,  La  Cavallini  had  per- 
sistently turned  the  colder  of  her  two  beautiful 
shoulders.  Madame  Cavallini  had  refused  to  be 
interviewed;  Madame  Cavallini  declined  positively 
to  talk  for  publication;  she  refused  to  allow  her 
pictures  to  be  placed  on  sale.  Her  rooms  at  the 
Brevoort  House  were  guarded  by  a  special  page 
boy  night  and  day,  and  throughout  the  six  weeks 
of  her  New  York  engagement  no  one  outside  of 
her  manager,  her  fellow  artists  at  the  theater  and 
her  private  waiter  at  the  hotel  had  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  wish  her  even  so  much  as  a  civil  "  good 
morning." 

And  for  all  this  the  public  whom  she  flouted  so 


96  ROMANCE 

persistently  adored  her  all  the  more.  Could  any 
artist,  short  of  our  own  modern  Mary  Garden, 
have  thought  out  and  achieved  so  stupendous  an 
advertisement?  And  to-night  La  Cavallini  was  to 
be  Corny  Van  Tuyl's  guest  of  honor.  Further- 
more, of  her  own  accord  she  had  volunteered  to 
sing  for  his  guests. 

Was  it  any  wonder,  then,  that  the  man  in  the 
street  wagged  his  head  with  a  knowing  look  and 
winked  his  eye  at  his  wife?  The  clubs  and  the 
cafes,  the  drawing-rooms  and  green  rooms  were 
busy  with  the  names  of  La  Cavallini  and  Cornelius 
Van  Tuyl.  So  while  the  gossips  chattered  and 
surmised  in  all  parts  of  the  town  and  the  invited 
guests  were  giving  the  last  touches  to  their  toilets, 
inside  the  house,  standing  serenely  at  the  foot  of 
the  broad  staircase  —  now  casting  a  last  glance 
at  the  decorations  in  the  long  drawing-rooms  and 
throwing  a  housewife's  experienced  look  into  the 
oak  dining-room  where  already  the  Delmonico 
waiters  were  making  their  preliminary  preparations 
for  the  supper,  stood  a  sweet-faced  woman  with 
very  straight,  fair  hair.  She  wore  it  in  a  very 
simple  fashion;  quite  out  of  accordance  with  the 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS     97 

mode  of  the  day.  By  her  looks  she  might  have 
been  seven  and  twenty  —  according  to  the  record 
in  the  Van  Tuyl  family  Bible  she  was  thirty-one. 
But  Susan  Van  Tuyl  was  by  nature  such  a  sunny 
and  light-hearted  person  that  she  never  allowed 
even  such  portentous  matters  as  her  age  or  her 
looks  to  bother  her  peace  of  mind.  At  the  moment 
Susan  was  feeling  singularly  pleased  both  with  her- 
self and  the  world  at  large.  For  never  since  the 
day  when,  as  a  little  girl,  she  first  came  to  live  in 
her  uncle's  house,  could  she  remember  a  time  when 
the  dear  old  rooms  had  looked  so  beautiful. 
Flowers  and  smilax  were  everywhere.  The  deco- 
rations had  all  been  Susan's  special  care,  and  look- 
ing at  them  she  saw  that  they  were  exceeding 
good. 

So,  barring  the  fact  that  her  hair  had  positively 
refused  to  stay  in  curl,  Susan  was  congratulating 
herself  that  she  hadn't  a  care  in  the  world,  when 
a  cheery  baritone  voice  from  the  head  of  the  stair- 
case called  to  her. 

"Hello!  my  little  chatelaine,  where  are  you? 
Let's  hold  a  council  of  war." 

The  man  who  came  toward  her  was  tall  and 


98  ROMANCE 

slender  and  somewhere  about  fifty  years  of  age. 
His  hair,  which  he  wore  a  trifle  long,  was  begin- 
ning to  be  tinged  with  gray  and  his  face  looked 
rather  pale  and  care-worn,  but  as  he  smiled  down 
affectionately  at  Susan  there  was  a  boyish  twinkle 
in  his  eyes,  which  seemed  to  lift  for  the  moment 
at  least  twenty  years  from  his  age.  He  was  a 
graceful  man  and  so  picturesque  in  his  appearance 
that  he  might  just  have  stepped  out  of  some  old 
portrait.  In  his  hand  he  carried  a  long  strip  of 
paper,  covered  with  names. 

"  I've  just  been  counting  noses,  Susan,"  said  Van 
Tuyl  gaily.  "  Dividing  the  sheep  from  the  goats, 
as  it  were,  and  wondering  to  just  what  particular 
extent  they're  all  going  to  disagree.  It  ought  to 
be  lots  of  fun,  Susan!  There  will  be  ninety  and 
nine  of  us  all  told.  Sounds  quite  like  the  hymn, 
doesn't  it?  But  I  never  can  quite  remember 
whether  the  plurality  consisted  of  *  just  persons ' 
or  *  lost  sheep.' ' 

"  Never  mind  about  lost  sheep  just  now,  Uncle," 
laughed  Susan.  "  Tell  me  about  your  lions. 
How  many  of  them  are  going  to  roar  for  you  to- 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS     99 

night?     And  what  particular  dainties  shall  I  feed 
them?" 

"  Let  me  see  now  " —  and  Cornelius  Van  Tuyl 
scratched  his  head  meditatively  —  "  there'll  be  Ole 
Bull,  the  violinist;  but  then  he's  no  bother;  the  old 
dowagers  will  keep  him  amused.  It's  always  a 
puzzle  to  me,  Susan,  why  the  oldest  and  most 
respectable  ladies  invariably  dote  on  the  most  pas- 
sionate type  of  musician.  Then,  let  me  see,  Mrs. 
Scott  Siddons  is  coming.  She's  a  trifle  heavy,  but 
extremely  decorative.  Be  sure  and  ask  her,  my 
dear,  when  she's  going  to  play  '  Medea.'  I  have 
an  idea  that  she  wasn't  completely  overjoyed  at 
Mrs.  Bower's  great  success  in  that  role.  Oh !  and 
then  let  me  see.  Matilda  Heron's  coming,  but  then 
she,  dear  soul,  is  always  a  host  in  herself.  Oh, 
and  by  the  way,  Susan,  before  I  forget  it,  I  bought 
a  box  for  the  matinee  at  '  Camille,'  in  which  her 
protegee,  that  pretty  little  red-haired  girl,  Agnes 
Ethel,  is  to  appear.  Imagine  anybody  but  Matilda 
Heron  ever  presuming  to  attempt  Camille.'  ' 
"Why,  Uncle,  was  she  so  wonderful?" 
"Wonderful!  That's  not  the  word;  she  was 


ioo  ROMANCE 

terrific.  It  must  be  twelve  or  thirteen  years  since 
I  saw  her  play  it  first  and  she  remains  the  first  and 
only  American  actress  who,  to  my  way  of  think- 
ing, ever  played  an  emotional  role  like  a  human 
being." 

"  Why,  you  surprise  me,  Uncle,  after  what  Mr. 
William  Winter  said  about  her  '  Camille  '  in  the 
Tribune  this  morning." 

"  Good  heavens !  "  laughed  Van  Tuyl,  "  and  he's 
coming  here  to-night,  too.  That  will  be  fun! 
Where's  the  paper?  Let  me  see  what  he  said." 

Susan  delved  into  the  depths  of  the  butler's  pan- 
try and  emerged  in  a  moment  with  that  morning's 
Tribune  in  her  hand. 

"  Just  listen  to  this,  Uncle,"  and  she  read. 

"  Miss  Agnes  Ethel,  a  pupil  of  Matilda  Heron, 
is  to  make  a  private  debut  —  good  care  being  taken 
to  make  it  as  public  as  possible  of  course  —  at 
Jerome's  Theater  on  the  loth  inst. —  next  Satur- 
day. Miss  Agnes  Ethel  will  play  '  Camille.'  It 
is  a  pity,  we  think,  that  Miss  Heron  has  not  edu- 
cated her  pupil  in  a  better  school  than  her  own. 
Miss  Heron  ought  to  be  aware  that  the  day  of 
1  Camile  '  is  entirely  passed.  French  merriment 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS    101 

is  now  at  the  top  of  the  tree,  but  pulmonary  disease 
and  French  vice  can  charm  no  longer.  They  con- 
stituted a  sufficiently  nasty  mixture  in  the  first  place 
and  they  have  not  improved  in  the  last  decade. 
The  supposition  that  anybody  wants  to  see  a  new 
actress  in  *  Camille  '  in  this  year  of  our  Lord 
1868,  is  the  wildest  of  all  delusions  —  especially 
when  it  is  considered  that  the  new  actress,  as  a 
pupil  of  Miss  Heron's  must  have  acquired  all  the 
grave  defects  of  the  style  of  that  actress.  Faults, 
as  everybody  knows,  are  much  more  salient  and 
much  more  easily  copied  than  merits.  If  Miss 
Agnes  Ethel  proposes  to  follow  the  stage  as  a  pro- 
fession she  would  be  wise  to  learn  her  business  by 
a  proper  apprenticeship  and  not  to  wreck  her  hopes 
at  the  outset  on  the  barren  rocks  of  a  worn-out 
theatrical  sensation.  Miss  Heron  herself,  in  '  Ca- 
mille,' is  as  much  as  the  public  can  endure  of  that 
sort  of  thing,  and  we  believe  that  Miss  Heron  is 
shortly  to  play  *  Camille  '  once  more  on  the  off 
nights  of  Mr.  Edwin  Forrest's  engagement  at 
Niblo's." 

Van  Tuyl  dropped  the  newspaper  and  throwing 
back  his  head  laughed  heartily. 


102  ROMANCE 

"  Well,  that  is  rather  a  hot  shot  to  fire  at  poor 
Matilda,  considering  that  she  has  been  playing 
1  Camille '  now  for  thirteen  years.  But  she'll  be 
equal  to  him.  Watch !  They'll  probably  end  the 
evening  in  a  love  feast.  Let's  put  them  next  to 
each  other  at  supper,  Susan." 

"  Winter  ought  to  be  here  in  a  minute  or  two 
now,"  continued  Van  Tuyl,  as  he  looked  at  his 
watch.  "  He's  reviewing  the  Barney  Williamses 
to-night  in  '  The  Family  Circle.'  But  it's  a  revival, 
so  it  won't  take  him  long.  He  said  he'd  write  his 
*  stuff '  at  the  Albemarle  and  bring  it  along  with 
him  and  have  his  young  assistant,  Dan,  call  for  it 
here.  Bright  lad,  that  boy  Dan !  "  continued  Van 
Tuyl.  "  He  can't  be  more  than  fifteen,  and  yet, 
as  I  said  to  Winter  the  other  day,  he  knows  more 
about  the  theatrical  business  than  all  of  us  put  to- 
gether. However,  back  to  our  muttons,  Susan !  I 
don't  think  you'll  have  to  worry  about  anybody  in 
particular  to-night,  except,  of  course,  Madame 
Cavallini.  I  should  like  you  to  make  a  good  deal 
of  her.  This  is  the  first  time  I've  been  able  to  in- 
duce her  to  come  out  of  her  shell.  In  spite  of  her 
great  triumph  here  I  think  she's  extremely  home- 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS    103 

sick.  With  her  old  companion,  Vannucci,  and  that 
infernal  little  monkey  of  hers,  which  loathes  my 
very  soul,  she  sits  in  her  rooms  at  the  Brevoort 
and  mopes  and  mopes.  Let's  try  and  cheer  her 
up,  Susan!  It  will  be  an  act  of  charity.  Oh! 
And  by  the  way,  I  forgot  to  tell  you,  we  are  to 
have  an  extra  guest,  who  will  make  us  an  even 
hundred.  Tom  Armstrong's  coming." 

"  Tom !  "  echoed  Susan  in  amazement.  "  Tom 
Armstrong  coming  to  one  of  your  parties !  Why, 
what's  come  over  the  boy?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing  incurable,"  said  Van  Tuyl,  look- 
ing at  Susan  rather  significantly.  "  I  have  a  sus- 
picion, though,  he's  very  much  in  love.  In  fact,  he 
started  to  tell  me  so  when  I  met  him  in  front 
of  St.  Giles's  this  morning.  He  said  he  wanted 
to  talk  to  me  on  a  very  important  matter;  but 
just  at  that  moment  that  old  busybody,  Mrs.  Ruth- 
erford, came  along  and  we  hadn't  a  chance  for  an- 
other word.  I  told  Tom  to  drop  in  here  to-night 
if  only  for  a  half  an  hour  and  then  we  could  finish 
our  chat  up  in  the  library.  So,  Susan,  you  must 
look  your  very  bonniest  to-night,  just  to  do 
honor  to  his  occasion." 


io4  ROMANCE 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  the  matter?  "  asked 
Susan,  looking  quite  innocent. 

"Tut!  Tut!  My  dear.  Don't  you  suppose 
I've  got  eyes  in  the  back  of  my  head?  Tom's  a 
fine  fellow,  even  if  he  is  a  bit  ponderous  and  has 
difficulty  in  seeing  a  joke.  But  you'll  educate 
him,  Susan.  I've  no  doubt  you'll  make  a  splen- 
did fellow  out  of  our  young  rector  of  St.  Giles's. 
It's  high  time,  too,  Susan.  I've  stood  in  your  way 
long  enough.  How  can  I  ever  recompense  you  for 
these  dear  sweet  teens  and  twenties,  all  of  which 
you  sacrificed  for  me?  So  to-night  when  Tom 
comes  to  you,  Susan,  treat  him  kindly." 

"  You're  all  wrong,  Uncle,"  cried  Susan,  laugh- 
ing, "I'm  afraid  you're  away  off  the  track  I 
Meantime  if  Mr.  Winter's  really  coming  I  think 
I'd  better  run  upstairs  and  hide  my  copy  of  '  Tri- 
cotrin  ' —  you  know  what  he  thinks  of  '  Ouida' — 
'  pestiferous  and  trashy '  was  what  he  said  of 
*  Under  Two  Flags  '  when  Lotta  played  in  it  last 
year.  And  '  Tricotrin '  is  such  a  dear  story. 
They  told  me  at  the  library  to-day  that  it's 
even  more  popular  than  Mrs.  E.  D.  E.  N.  South- 
worth's  '  The  Hidden  Hand.'  " 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS    105 

"  There's  one  thing  about  old  lady  Southworth's 
novels,"  laughed  Van  Tuyl.  "  They  always  make 
you  so  hungry.  They're  so  full  of  banquets  and 
dinners  and  '  high  teas  '  that  I  always  feel  famished 
long  before  I  reach  *  to  be  continued  in  our  next.' 
Before  you  go  let  me  think  if  there's  anything 
else  " —  as  Susan  was  about  to  run  upstairs.  "  Ah, 
yes !  Young  Daly  will  be  here  to-night  —  the  chap 
who  wrote  '  Under  the  Gaslight.'  He  let  me  read 
a  new  play  of  his  the  other  night  and  I  think  it's 
uncommonly  clever.  It's  called  '  Horizon,'  and 
there's  a  little  Western  girl  in  it  called  '  Med ' 
which  pretty  Agnes  Ethel  could,  I  think,  play  to 
perfection.  Bring  them  together  if  the  chance 
arises.  I  should  like  to  do  her  a  good  turn  for 
Matilda's  sake.  Ah !  General  Sickles,  how  d'y 
do?  "  and  Van  Tuyl  turned  to  greet  one  of  several 
guests  who  were  entering.  "  Splendid  weather, 
isn't  it?" 

Directly  behind  General  Sickles,  a  young  boy 
entered  in  street  clothes,  carrying  his  cap  in  his 
hand. 

"  Ah !  Dan,  how  are  you,  my  boy?  "  cried  Van 
Tuyl,  shaking  the  youngster  by  the  hand. 


io6  ROMANCE 

"  You've  come  for  Mr.  Winter's  copy,  haven't 
you?  Well,  he  hasn't  arrived  yet.  Come  along 
with  me,  my  lad.  Let's  go  foraging  in  the  butler's 
pantry.  I'm  as  hungry  as  a  hunter  myself  —  so 
busy  I  didn't  eat  a  scrap  of  dinner.  That's  the 
worst  of  giving  suppers  to  other  people,  you  al- 
ways forget  to  eat  anything  yourself.  This  time 
I  shall  take  precautions.  What  shall  we  eat,  Dan? 
Shall  it  be  chicken  sandwiches  or  lobster  salad?  " 

As  he  spoke,  Van  Tuyl,  just  to  make  the  young- 
ster feel  perfectly  at  home,  began  eating  sand- 
wiches voraciously. 

"What  will  you  drink,  my  boy?"  exclaimed 
Van  Tuyl,  after  he  had  piled  the  lad's  plate  high 
with  salad. 

"  A  glass  of  champagne,  eh?  " 

"  No,  thanks,  sir,"  said  Dan.     "  I  never  drink." 

"  Quite  right,  my  lad,  quite  right.  I  ought  to 
be  ashamed  of  myself  for  putting  temptation  in 
your  way.  But  tell  me  the  news,  Dan.  You're 
my  chief  authority,  you  know.  I  was  telling  Mr. 
Winter  only  yesterday  that  you're  so  invaluable  to 
him  the  Tribune  ought  to  raise  your  salary." 

"  Have  you  seen  the  new  beauty  in  4  Ixion,' 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS    107 

sir?"  said  Dan,  forgetting  that  his  mouth  was 
half  full  in  his  enthusiasm. 

"  Which  one,  Dan  —  Lydia  Thompson  or  Pau- 
line Markham?" 

"  Oh,  neither  of  them,  sir;  she's  not  a  principal 
—  she's  just  one  of  the  extras  with  only  a  few  lines 
to  speak,"  cried  the  lad,  his  whole  face  lighting 
up  with  enthusiasm.  "  But  it's  the  way  she  says 
them !  Her  voice  is  like  a  great  organ  in  church. 
There's  a  girl  who  is  going  to  be  a  great  actress, 
sir.  If  I  was  Mr.  Lester  Wallack  I'd  put  her 
under  contract  and  make  her  my  leading  woman 
right  away." 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  speak  to  Mr.  Winter 
about  her.  He  knows  Mr.  Wallack  very  well." 

"  Ah !  But  that's  just  it,  sir.  Mr.  Winter  and 
I  never  do  agree  about  actresses.  He  believes  in 
the  old  school  of  acting;  I'm  a  realist." 

"Ah!  So  that's  the  way  of  it,"  smiled  Van 
Tuyl. 

"  I  say,  Mr.  Van  Tuyl,"  said  the  boy  bash- 
fully. "  Did  you  happen  to  read  that  article  in 
the  Herald  yesterday  on  '  Realism  on  Our  Stage  '  ? 
I'd  like  you  to  read  it,  sir.  Here  it  is  " —  and  Dan 


io8  ROMANCE 

pulled  a  much  becrumpled  clipping  out  of  his  vest 
pocket.  "  I  wrote  that  after  hours  and  a  chum  of 
mine  on  the  Herald  put  it  in  for  me.  You  see, 
down  in  our  office  they  keep  me  writing  the 
*  Among  the  attractions  next  week  will  be,'  and 
sometimes  for  a  treat  they  let  me  write  obituary 
notices;  so  you  see  I  don't  get  much  chance  to  im- 
prove my  style.  Would  you  mind  reading  it,  Mr. 
Van  Tuyl?  "  asked  the  boy  eagerly. 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure,"  said  his  host;  and 
his  eyes  scanned  rapidly  these  lines  from  the  New 
York  Herald  of  Nov.  22,  1868. 

"  Steam  is  now  the  most  effective  agency  em- 
ployed upon  the  American  stage.  With  the  smok- 
ing railroad  at  Niblo's  and  the  screeching  steam- 
boat at  Wallack's  it  must  be  acknowledged  that 
steam  now  draws  audiences  as  well  as  cars  and 
barges.  The  railroad  scene  at  Niblo's  could  be 
improved  upon  but  the  steamboat  scene  as  done  at 
Wallack's  is  the  most  perfect  thing  of  the  kind 
ever  attempted  on  the  stage  in  this  country.  A 
large  boat  with  genuine  steam  and  real  smoke, 
making  her  landing  at  a  good  imitation  of  a  pier 
when  she  lands  live  and  kicking  passengers,  and 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS    109 

then  blowing  her  genuine  whistle  of  steam  as  her 
lines  are  cast  off  from  the  spiles,  and  her  smooth 
transit  across  the  stage  through  the  canvas  water 
is  something  so  novel  in  itself  that  it  never  fails  to 
bring  down  the  house." 

"  Why,  that's  capital,  Dan,"  exclaimed  Van  Tuyl 
with  enthusiasm.  "  It's  worthy  of  Mr.  Winter 
himself.  But  tell  me  now  about  this  new  goddess 
of  yours.  I'm  expecting  Mr.  Wallack  here  to- 
night. I  might  be  able  to  do  a  good  turn  for  your 
divinity.  What's  her  name,  Dan?  " 

"  Rose  Coghlan,  sir,"  said  Dan. 

"A  pretty  name,  Dan;  I'll  remember  it,"  said 
Van  Tuyl,  "  and  if  Mr.  Wallack  ever  should 
make  her  famous  I'll  see  that  you  get  your  share 
of  credit  for  the  deed." 

;( Thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  boy  gratefully. 
"  And  I  say,  Mr.  Van  Tuyl,  if  the  chance  comes 
up  I'd  be  very  much  obliged  to  you  if  you  would 
say  something  to  Mr.  Winter  about  raising  my 
salary.  You  see,  it's  not  only  on  my  account  I'm 
speaking,  but  I've  got  a  little  brother  Charlie; 
he's  a  good  deal  younger  than  me,  but  he's  mighty 
ambitious.  He's  just  eating  his  head  off  waiting 


no  ROMANCE 

for  me  to  get  promoted  so  that  he  can  step  into 
my  shoes." 

"  Trust  me,  Dan,  I  won't  forget,"  and  Van  Tuyl 
patted  the  lad  kindly  upon  the  shoulder.  "  By  the 
way,  Dan,"  he  added,  "  there's  one  other  thing 
I  want  to  know;  what's  your  last  name?  In  all 
the  months  we've  been  acquainted  I've  known  you 
merely  as  '  Dan.'  ' 

"  Frohman,  sir,"  replied  the  boy,  "  that's  my 
name  —  Daniel  Frohman." 

"  Mr.  Lester  Wallack !  Mr.  William  Winter ! 
Mr.  Augustin  Daly!  "  announced  the  butler. 

Three  men  chatting  volubly  entered  the  house  to- 
gether. 

Van  Tuyl  advanced  to  meet  them. 

"  How  are  you,  Wallack,  old  man?  "  shaking 
hands  with  a  tall,  striking-looking  man,  wearing 
a  monocle  and  a  drooping,  obviously  dyed  mus- 
tache. "  I've  a  great  piece  of  news  for  you. 
We'll  talk  about  it  later  on.  Winter,  my  dear  fel- 
low !  "  he  exclaimed  affectionately,  as  he  shook 
hands  with  the  distinguished  dramatic  critic. 
"  I've  just  been  telling  that  office  boy  of  yours  that 
the  Tribune  ought  to  raise  his  salary."  Then, 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS    in 

turning  to  an  extremely  handsome  but  rather  stern- 
looking  man,  he  said,  holding  his  hand  out,  "  My 
dear  Daly,  I'm  delighted  to  welcome  you  here  to- 
night. You've  come  just  in  the  nick  of  time." 
He  drew  him  slightly  to  one  side  and  continued 
more  confidentially.  "  You  remember  that  play  of 
yours  we  read  together,  '  Horizon  '  ?  Well,  I've 
discovered  your  heroine  for  you.  She'll  be  here 
to-night.  One  glance  at  her  will  convince  you  that 
she'll  make  an  ideal  '  Med.'  " 

While  the  three  other  men  continued  chatting 
Mr.  Winter  stepped  into  the  hall  and  handed  a 
large  envelope  containing  his  review  to  young 
Frohman. 

"  Hurry  up,  Daniel !  "  said  the  dramatic  critic, 
looking  at  his  watch.  "  I'm  afraid  we're  a  little 
bit  late  for  the  first  edition." 

The  lad  started  off  on  a  run. 

Strange  meetings  with  many  strangers,  conse- 
quences took  place  in  the  old  Van  Tuyl  house  that 
night  —  meetings  which  were  fraught  with  fame 
and  with  fortune  and  celebrity  for  more  than  one 
woman  and  one  man.  But  of  all  the  unknowns 
who  started  on  the  road  to  success  that  evening 


ii2  ROMANCE 

no  two  were  destined  to  bear  a  longer  and  more 
illustrious  part  in  the  theatrical  history  of  the  town 
than  the  lad  who  carried  "  copy  "  to  the  newspaper 
office  and  his  "  little  brother  Charlie." 

Guests  were  arriving  in  droves.  But  still  there 
was  no  sign  of  La  Cavallini.  That  she  would  be 
late  was  to  be  expected,  for  she  had  been  singing 
her  most  popular  opera,  "  Mignon,"  at  the  Acad- 
emy that  night.  In  order  that  she  should  avoid 
the  crush  Van  Tuyl  had  thoughtfully  arranged  with 
her  coachman  to  drive  to  a  small  door  on  one  of 
the  side  streets  —  an  entrance  generally  used  only 
by  Van  Tuyl  himself  and  the  members  of  the 
family.  As  he  awaited  her  arrival  a  ring  came 
at  the  door.  Van  Tuyl  answered  it  himself.  On 
the  threshold  stood  a  tall  young  man  of  seven  or 
eight  and  twenty,  wearing  the  cloth  of  an  Episco- 
pal clergyman,  over  which  hung  a  long,  rather 
shabby-appearing  black  cloak.  He  was  exceed- 
ingly good  looking,  and  as  he  hastily  removed  his 
hat  he  revealed  a  mop  of  curly  light  brown  hair. 

"  Good  boy,  Tom !  "  exclaimed  Van  Tuyl,  clap- 
ping heartily  on  the  shoulder  the  Rev.  Thomas 
Armstrong  of  St.  Giles's.  "  Run  along  upstairs 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS   113 

by  the  private  staircase  if  you  want  to  escape  the 
mob.  You'll  find  Susan  on  duty  up  there  some- 
where. I'll  join  you  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  Sorry  I'm  late,  sir;  but  I  was  detained  down 
at  the  Bowery  Mission.  I  hadn't  even  time  to 
go  home  and  dress,"  said  the  young  clergyman. 

"  Don't  apologize,  Tom.  Your  cloth  carries 
you  anywhere,  my  dear  boy.  Run  along  now." 

The  young  man  bounded  up  the  stairs.  At  the 
top  he  paused  abruptly  at  the  sound  of  his  own 
name.  In  the  room  he  was  about  to  enter  stood 
Susan  Van  Tuyl,  surrounded  by  half  a  dozen 
elderly  men  and  women,  most  of  them  members  of 
his  own  congregation,  as  Tom  speedily  recognized 
with  a  single  glance  of  his  eye. 

"  You  can  say  what  you  please,  Miss  Van 
Tuyl,"  exclaimed  a  stout,  elderly  woman  dressed 
in  stiff  black  silk.  "  I  disagree  with  you  entirely. 
Mr.  Armstrong's  nose  is  not  Grecian  by  any  man- 
ner of  means." 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Frothingham,"  said  Susan  politely, 
"  are  noses  then  your  only  standard  of  a  man  of 
God?  " 

"  Ah,  well,  I  agree  with  Mrs.  Frothingham," 


II4  ROMANCE 

chimed  in  another  stout  dowager,  Mrs.  Ruther- 
ford. "  There's  something  about  the  young  man 
I  never  liked.  He's  too  officious,  too  dictatorial, 
and  then  his  grandfather  on  his  mother's  side 
came  of  very  doubtful  stock,  you  know  —  an  Irish 
peasant,  I  believe,  who  only  landed  here  some  time 
about  1805." 

Susan  raised  her  eyebrows  in  astonishment. 

"  Surely,  Mrs.  Rutherford,"  she  remarked 
blandly,  "  your  memory  doesn't  take  you  quite  as 
far  back  as  all  that?  " 

"  And  to  think,"  cried  De  Puyster  Putnam, 
plucking  indignantly  at  his  long  "  Dundrearies," 
"  that  we,  the  very  oldest  parishioners  of  St. 
Giles's,  are  condemned  to  listen  to  his  impertinent 
sermons.  Why,  only  last  Sunday  I  woke  up  just 
in  time  to  catch  the  young  puppy  making  scurrilous 
allusions  to  me!  " 

Stout  Mrs.  Frothingham  stopped  fanning  her- 
self and  displayed  a  sudden  interest. 

"  Dear  me,  Mr.  De  Puyster,"  she  remarked, 
"  I  am  exceedingly  sorry  my  neuralgia  kept  me 
from  attending  church  last  Sunday.  What  did  he 
say  about  you?  " 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS    115 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  he  said,"  said  Susan  deliber- 
ately, taking  the  conversation  into  her  own  hands. 
"  He  said  he  didn't  doubt  that  several  of  our 
elderly  beaux  would  soon  be  making  heaven  fash- 
ionable and  organizing  society  among  the  more  ex- 
clusive angels." 

"  Abominable !  "  cried  Mrs.  Frothingham,  fan- 
ning herself  vigorously  once  more. 

"  I  call  it  blasphemous !  "  said  Mrs.  Rutherford, 
in  a  tone  which  was  intended  to  settle  the  matter 
once  and  for  all. 

"  It  was  hardly  the  remark  of  a  gentleman," 
said  De  Puyster  Putnam,  still  in  an  injured 
tone. 

"  But  he's  not  a  gentleman.  What  can  you 
expect?  "  retorted  Mrs.  Fothingham. 

"  I  admit  he  dresses  like  a  penwiper,"  continued 
De  Puyster  Putnam. 

"  Yes,  and  he  spends  all  his  spare  time  with 
workingmen,"  chimed  in  Mrs.  Rutherford. 

Mr.  Putnam  stroked  his  whiskers  once  more 
before  turning  his  guns  full  upon  Susan. 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  he  remarked  in  a 
patronizing  tone,  "  why  your  excellent  uncle  ever 


n6  ROMANCE 

gave  him  the  church  is  more  than  I  shall  ever  be 
able  to  understand." 

*'  Because  Uncle  knows  he's  the  coming  man, 
that's  why ! "  cried  Susan  with  flashing  eyes. 
"  Look  what  he's  done  here  in  these  last  two 
years !  Hasn't  he  built  up  the  congregation  from 
nothing  at  all  to  the  third  largest  in  New  York? 
Hasn't  he  started  the  athletic  club  for  the  young 
men  and  the  cooking  school  for  the  girls?  Hasn't 
he  founded  our  parish  school  for  poor  children  — • 
and  got  people  to  donate  a  playground  —  and  a 
circulating  library  —  and  a  big  hall  for  lectures 
and  musical  entertainments  ?  Isn't  he  just  as  much 
at  home  and  just  as  much  loved  down  in  a  Bowery 
saloon  as  he  is  here  in  a  Fifth  Avenue  drawing- 
room  ?  Isn't  he  — " 

But  at  this  moment  the  Rev.  Thomas  Arm- 
strong decided  that  he  had  heard  enough  about 
himself.  There  was  a  broad,  good-natured  smile 
upon  his  face  as  he  advanced  toward  Susan,  who 
was  standing  with  her  back  to  him.  De  Puyster 
Putnam  was  the  first  to  catch  sight  of  Tom.  His 
tune  changed  instantly. 

He  stuttered,  and  his  face  flushed. 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS   117 

"I  —  er  —  I  —  er  —  quite  agree  with  you, 
Miss  Van  Tuyl !  "  he  remarked. 

"  His  efforts  are  very  praiseworthy,  I'm  sure," 
hastily  exclaimed  Mrs.  Frothingham  as  she  also 
saw  Tom  bearing  down  upon  them. 

"  Quite  remarkable,  indeed  I  "  gasped  Mrs. 
Rutherford,  equally  anxious  to  save  the  situation. 

Susan,  astonished  at  their  change  of  tone,  turned 
around  suddenly. 

"  But  — "  she  began.  Then,  seeing  Tom,  she 
burst  out  laughing  and  held  her  hand  out  to  him. 
"  Ah  I  I  see,"  she  exclaimed.  "  You've  arrived 
just  in  time,  Tom.  We've  been  talking  about 
you." 

"  So  I  heard,"  said  Tom,  laughing  again. 
"  Thank  you,  Susan.  You're  a  splendid  cham- 
pion." 

"  Oh,  but  my  dear  Mr.  Armstrong,"  cried  Mrs. 
Rutherford,  rising  hastily,  "  we  were  all  saying 
the  most  flattering  things  — " 

"Yes,  indeed,  my  dear  sir!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Frothingham  nervously,  as  she,  too,  prepared  to 
beat  a  dignified  retreat.  "  I  wonder  your  ears 
weren't  burning — " 


n8  ROMANCE 

"  By  Jove,  yes  —  so  do  I,"  laughed  De  Puyster 
Putnam  nervously. 

"  Don't  let  me  drive  you  away,  ladies,"  said 
Tom  gallantly. 

"  I  must  be  looking  after  my  Mabel,"  ex- 
plained Mrs.  Frothingham.  "  With  all  these 
extraordinary  celebrities  on  the  premises  one  never 
knows  whom  she  might  be  introduced  to.  And 
dear  Mabel  is  so  impulsive !  She  might  be  asking 
some  of  them  to  tea !  " 

"  And  I  was  just  on  the  point  of  offering  Mrs. 
Rutherford  some  supper,"  added  De  Puyster  Put- 
nam. "  One  mustn't  forget  this  is  one  of  the  few 
houses  where  Blue  Seal  Johannisberger  flows  like 
water.  Au  revoir,  Miss  Van  Tuyl " —  and  he 
bowed  profoundly — "  Your  servant!  " 

"  Oh,  but  none  of  you  must  go  before  Madame 
Cavallim  comes !  "  called  Susan  as  all  three  started 
down  the  stairs.  "  She's  promised  to  sing  for  us. 
And  you  know  what  that  means!  Au  revoir  — 
au  revoir  — " 

As  they  vanished  Susan  turned  with  flashing 
eyes  to  Tom. 

"  Cats !     All  three  of  them !  "  she  cried  furi- 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS    119 

ously.  "  Two  tabbys  and  one  old  Tom !  Did 
you  hear  what  they  were  saying  about  you?  " 

"Oh,  just  a  little,"  laughed  Tom;  "but  what 
does  it  matter,  my  dear  Susan?  They're  not  the 
people  that  really  count!  " 

"  I  know !  That's  all  very  well,  but  I  just  can't 
bear  their  criticising  you !  " 

Susan  turned  to  the  Rev.  Thomas  Armstrong 
and  looked  him  carefully  over  from  head  to  foot 
with  a  critical  but  unbiassed  eye. 

"  Oh,  Tom !  You've  got  your  oldest  clothes 
on ! "  she  exclaimed  as  though  chiding  some 
naughty  child.  "  Why  couldn't  you  have  stopped 
to  dress?  " 

"  Well,  I  was  going  to,  honestly  I  was,  Susan!  " 
exclaimed  Tom.  "  But  this  is  my  night  at  the 
athletic  club,  and  about  ten  o'clock,  just  as  I 
had  taken  on  the  heavy  work  of  the  ward,  little 
Jimmy  Baxter  came  running  in  and  said  young 
Sullivan  was  drunk  again  and  was  killing  his  wife. 
So  would  I  please  step  over  for  a  minute. 

"What's  the  matter,  Susan?  What  are  you 
looking  at?  " 

Susan  was  still  gazing  at  him  fixedly.     Invol- 


120  ROMANCE 

untarily  Tom's  right  hand  strayed  to  his  left 
shoulder  as  though  to  remove  some  possible  bit 
of  fluff. 

"  It's  your  hair,  Tom  —  your  hair !  "  exclaimed 
Susan. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  it  —  sticking  up  be- 
hind as  usual?  "  And  Tom  passed  his  hand  heav- 
ily over  his  curly  crop. 

"Just  one  lock  —  on  the  left,"  said  Susan, 
coming  close  to  him.  "  Bend  over.  I'll  fix  it  for 
you." 

Tom  bent  his  head  obediently  and  indulged  in  a 
sly  smile. 

"  What  an  injustice  it  is  that  you  should  have 
all  these  lovely  curls,  which  aren't  a  bit  of  use  to 
you,  while  my  poor  locks  won't  keep  in  crimp  for 
five  minutes  on  end.  There  ought  to  be  a  law 
against  it!"  exclaimed  Susan  laughingly.  "A 
law  making  it  a  criminal  offense  for  any  man  to  be 
born  with  curly  hair." 

"  Oh,  come,  come,  Mrs.  Delilah !  "  exclaimed 
Tom,  "  don't  be  so  hard  on  us  poor  Samsons.  We 
wouldn't  have  a  hair  left  on  our  heads  if  you  had 
your  way.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  Susan,"  he  con- 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS    121 

tinued,  resuming  his  explanation,  "  I  found  young 
Sullivan  in  a  fighting  mood  and  rather  diffi- 
cult to  manage.  And  then  in  the  middle  of  it 
all  —  what  do  you  think?  —  if  Mrs.  Sullivan 
didn't  go  and  have  another  baby!  " 

"Good  heavens!  Poor  dear!  That  makes 
the  sixth,  doesn't  it?  "  remarked  Susan,  who  by  this 
time,  handkerchief  in  hand,  was  trying  to  take  out 
a  spot  from  the  lapel  of  Tom's  coat.  "  I'll  go 
around  the  first  thing  to-morrow  morning  and  see 
how  she's  getting  on." 

"  Oh,  I  say,  Miss  Van  Tuyl !  "  called  a  man's 
voice  from  the  stairway. 

Susan  leaned  over  the  balustrade  and  smiled 
down  upon  a  dandified-looking  young  man  of 
thirty,  who  was  coming  up  the  stairs  as  fast  as  he 
could  with  a  plate  of  lobster  salad  in  one  hand  and 
a  dish  of  macaroons  in  the  other. 

"Why,  Mr.  Livingstone!  How  kind  of  you! 
Is  all  this  for  me?  "  laughed  Susan. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  Miss  Van  Tuyl.  You  owe  that 
dab  of  mayonnaise  to  no  less  a  person  than  the 
c  Golden  Nightingale.'  " 

"Why,  Mr.  Livingstone?"  asked  Susan. 


122  ROMANCE 

"  Fact,  I  assure  you.  I  never  could  have  got  a 
morsel  if  it  hadn't  been  for  her,"  continued  Fred 
Livingstone,  helping  himself  to  a  macaroon. 
"  Why,  all  the  literary  and  artistic  talent  in  New 
York  were  fighting  like  a  band  of  demons  around 
the  supper  when  —  thank  the  Lord !  the  band 
struck  up  and  someone  cried  that  Cavallini  had 
arrived!  Two  seconds  and  there  wasn't  a  soul  in 
the  entire  dining-room  —  excepting  myself,  of 
course.  I'm  always  far  more  interested  in  my 
supper  than  in  any  prima  donna  that  ever  sang. 
It's  my  opinion  they  should  be  kept  in  their  place, 
behind  the  footlights  or  in  their  own  little  gilded 
cages  like  our  domestic  canaries.  But  they  cer- 
tainly did  make  a  fuss  over  her  downstairs.  Why, 
even  the  caterer's  men  were  standing  up  on  chairs 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  '  divinity  ' !  " 

"  Oh,  I  really  must  go  down  and  greet  her! '' 
exclaimed  Susan,  starting  for  the  stairs. 

"  If  you  see  your  uncle,  Susan,"  said  Tom, 
"  would  you  mind  telling  him  where  I  am." 

"  Very  well,  Tom,"  smiled  Susan.  "  Are  you 
coming  along,  Mr.  Livingstone?  " 

"  Er  —  will  you  excuse  me,  Miss  Van  Tuyl?  " 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS    123 

said  Livingstone.  "  If  you  don't  mind  I'll  stay 
here.  I  want  to  have  a  word  or  two  with  Tom." 

"  Why,  certainly  1  "  said  Susan,  as  she  vanished. 

Livingstone's  manner  changed  instantly. 

"  Well !  "  he  exclaimed,  fairly  quivering  with 
rage.  "  This  is  the  last  time  I  bring  my  wife  to 
this  house !  " 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter?  "  said  Tom,  amazed. 

"  Why  the  man  must  be  out  of  his  head,"  cried 
Livingstone. 

:<  Who?  What  man !  "  exclaimed  Tom,  grow- 
ing curious. 

"  Why,  Van  Tuyl,  who  else  do  you  suppose  I 
could  mean?  " 

"  What  on  earth's  he  done?  " 

"  Good  Lord,  man !  Don't  you  realize  who's 
downstairs?  Don't  you  know  who's  making  a 
tour  of  the  rooms  on  his  arm?  Don't  you  know 
whom  he's  introducing  to  every  respectable  woman 
that's  been  fool  enough  to  come  here  to-night?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,"  interrupted  Tom.  "  Who  is 
she?" 

"  Why  La  Cavallini !  "  said  Livingstone  impres- 
sively. 


124  ROMANCE 

Tom  looked  puzzled. 

"Oh,  you  mean  that  foreign  opera  singer? 
Well,  what  of  it?" 

"  What  of  it !  "  cried  Livingstone.  "  Don't  be 
a  fool,  man;  she's  his  mistress,  that's  all." 

"What!"  said  Tom,  controlling  himself  with 
difficulty. 

"  Oh,  I  wouldn't  have  mentioned  it  to  you,  his 
rector,  if  he  hadn't  brought  her  here  to-night. 
I'm  a  man  of  the  world;  in  fact,  I'm  exceedingly 
broad  minded,  I  believe  in  letting  a  man's  private 
affairs  strictly  alone.  But,  by  gad,  sir;  I  do  ex- 
pect him  in  return  to  show  a  little  common 
decency." 

"I  see!"  said  Tom,  grimly;  and  he  clenched 
his  hands. 

"  And  look  here,  Tom,"  Livingstone  went  rat- 
tling on.  "  So  long  as  you  are  his  rector  and  all 
that,  I  think  you  ought  to  speak  to  him  about  it  — 
haul  him  over  the  coals  and  haul  him  jolly  hard!  " 

"  And  this  is  what  you  wanted  to  say  to  me?  " 
asked  Tom,  still  keeping  a  tight  rein  on  himself. 

"  Yes." 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS    125 

Tom  took  a  step  toward  Livingstone  and  looked 
him  in  the  eye. 

"  And  I  have  one  or  two  things  to  say  to  you," 
he  said  decisively.  "  And  I'll  just  begin  by  telling 
you  what  you  are  —  you're  a  miserable  gossiping 
old  woman !  " 

"  Wait  —  hold  on  I  "  cried  Livingstone  taken 
aback.  "  Who  are  you  talking  to?  " 

"  I'm  talking  to  you,"  continued  Tom  grimly. 
"  A  pitiful  fool  who  hears  a  dirty  story  and  can't 
rest  until  he's  passed  it  on!  Why,  you  apology 
for  the  male  sex,  do  you  know  what  you're  doing? 
You're  a  guest  in  a  gentleman's  house  —  you've 
eaten  his  food  and  drenched  yourself  in  his  wine 
and  shaken  him  by  the  hand  and  now  you're  turn- 
ing around  and  circulating  rotten  lies  behind  his 
back—" 

"  They're  not  lies,"  interrupted  Livingstone, 
more  outraged  than  ever.  "  It's  the  truth  I'm 
telling  you,  he's  lived  with  her  for  years.  She  has 
a  villa  on  the  Riviera  that  Van  Tuyl  gave  her. 
It's  called  Millefleurs.  Jack  Morris  saw  them 
there  together — " 


126  ROMANCE 

"  Be  still!  "  thundered  Tom. 

Livingstone,  awed  by  the  fury  in  Tom's  voice, 
retreated  behind  the  sofa  but  continued  to  talk 
volubly  from  behind  it. 

"  I  won't  be  still.  Why,  all  the  fellows  know 
what  Rita  Cavallini  is.  Ask  Guvvy  Fisk;  he  knew 
the  French  musician  chap  that  found  her  singing 
under  hotel  windows  years  ago  in  Venice.  And 
Guvvy  knows  just  when  she  kicked  him  out  and 
went  off  with  that  Russian  Grand  Duke  and  lived 
with  him  in  Petersburg  until  the  Prince  de  Join 
Ville  set  her  up  in  Paris !  Why,  she's  notorious 
all  over  Europe  —  her  name's  a  byword  in  every 
capital  —  she's  ruined  whole  families  —  run 
through  fortune  after  fortune.  It  was  outside  her 
door  that  that  young  English  poet  shot  himself  — 
the  Emperor  borrowed  money  from  the  Roths- 
childs just  to  buy  her  diamonds  —  the  King  of 
Naples  gave  her — " 

"  Stop  it,  Livingstone !  "  cried  Tom,  breaking  in. 
"  Stop  it,  or  I'll  break  your  neck!  " 

From  his  intrenchment  behind  the  sofa  Living- 
stone was  now  making  warily  for  the  head  of  the 
stairs. 


VAN  TUYL  INCREASES  HIS  GUESTS   127 

"  And  as  for  Van  Tuyl  —  well,  everybody 
knows  what  he's  been  like  — " 

Tom  made  a  bound  toward  him. 

"  You  little  cur,  you  — " 

But  the  rest  of  Tom's  phrase  was  never  spoken. 
Just  at  that  instant  Van  Tuyl's  handsome  head  ap- 
peared above  the  balustrade. 

"  Well,  my  young  friends !  "  said  their  host,  se- 
renely. "What's  the  matter?  What's  it  all  about?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,  Tom  and  I  were  having  a  little 
argument;  that's  all,"  said  Livingstone  politely,  as 
he  pulled  his  watch  out  and  looked  at  it  in  order 
to  cover  his  confusion.  "  Good  gracious  —  twelve 
o'clock.  You  haven't  seen  my  wife  anywhere 
about,  Mr.  Van  Tuyl?" 

"  But  you're  not  going?  "  said  Van  Tuyl,  in 
seeming  astonishment.  "  Why,  the  party  hasn't 
begun  yet.  Haven't  they  told  you?  Madame 
Cavallini  is  going  to  sing." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Van  Tuyl,"  said  Livingstone 
with  dignity.  "  I'd  rather  my  wife  hear  Madame 
Cavallini  across  the  footlights.  A  touch  of  preju- 
dice on  my  part  perhaps,  but  don't  let  it  bother 
you.  Good  night,  sir." 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  REV.  THOMAS  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE  TO  A 
MAN  AND  RECEIVES  SOME  FROM  A  WOMAN 

When  Eve  upon  the  first  of  men 

The  apple  pressed  with  specious  cant, 

Oh,  what  a  thousand  pities  then 
That  Adam  was  not  Adamant! 

—Hood. 

Surely  a  woman's  affection 

Is  not  a  thing  to  be  asked  for,  and  had  for  only  the  asking. 
When  one  is  truly  in  love,  one  not  only  says  it,  but 
shows  it. 

— Longfellow. 

"  WELL,  Tom,  here  we  are  at  last,"  exclaimed 
Van  Tuyl  cheerily.  "  Now,  what  have  you  to  say 
to  me,  my  dear  boy?  " 

"  I'd  have  gone  downstairs,  but  I'm  not  dressed, 
as  you  see." 

"  Nonsense,  my  boy,  I  think  you're  very  good 
to  come  at  all." 

Then  in  order  to  allow  Tom  to  come  to  the 
128 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     129 

question  in  his  own  good  time,  Van  Tuyl  began  to 
chat  of  other  matters. 

"  I  don't  remember  if  you're  interested  in  terra 
cottas,  Tom,  but  if  you  are  — " 

He  lifted  a  small  vase  from  off  the  mantelpiece. 

"  Here's  something  that  came  in  last  week.  It's 
a  lekythos  of  the  time  of  Pericles.  Look  at  the 
exquisite  grace  and  freshness  of  those  figures  1 
And  to  think  that  the  hand  that  made  them  has 
been  dust  two  thousand  years!  " 

"  Er  —  very  pretty  —  very  pretty  indeed !  " 
said  Tom,  not  in  the  least  interested. 

Van  Tuyl  replaced  the  vase  on  the  mantelpiece 
with  a  sigh. 

;<  Two  thousand  years!  I  wonder  where  we 
were  then,  eh,  Tom?  But  I  think  you  care  more 
for  pictures  than  for  terra  cottas,  don't  you? 
Come  and  look  at  my  new  Millet.  It's  in  my 
room  where  I  can  see  it  every  morning  just  as  soon 
as  I  wake  up.  By  Jove !  He's  a  wonderful  fel- 
low, that  Millet,  and  some  day  he's  bound  to  be 
recognized,  even  if — " 

Tom  stood  his  ground. 

;t  Thanks,  sir,  but  if  you  don't  mind  I'd  rather 


130  ROMANCE 

stay  here,"  he  said  firmly;  "  I  want  to  —  to  talk 
to  you  — " 

"  Of  course,  just  as  you  say." 

Tom  was  growing  more  awkward  and  embar- 
rassed every  moment. 

"  I  don't  quite  know  how  to  begin,  sir,  as  it's  a 
rather  important  —  and  at  the  same  time  a  rather 
—  a  rather  delicate  matter,  but  —  but  —  I'm  not 
by  any  chance  keeping  you  from  your  guests?  " 

"  Not  at  all.     Fire  away !  "  smiled  Van  Tuyl. 

"  But  it's  er  —  er  —  something  that  I  really  feel 
I  ought  to  —  er  —  I  mean  to  say  er  —  I  —  er  — 
consider  it  in  the  light  of  —  an  obligation  —  to  — 
er  — to— " 

"  Tom !  "  interrupted  Van  Tuyl. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Van  Tuyl  put  his  hand  confidentially  on  Tom's 
shoulder. 

"  It's  about  Susan,  isn't  it?  " 

"Yes  —  in  a  way,  but — "  replied  Tom,  still 
more  awkwardly. 

"  Then  it's  all  right,  my  boy,"  said  Van  Tuyl 
heartily.  "  I'm  as  glad  as  I  can  be." 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     131 

"  But  what's  all  right?  "  asked  Tom  perplexed. 
"  I'm  afraid,  sir,  I  don't  follow  you." 

"  Why,  aren't  you  asking  me  if  — "  Van  Tuyl 
paused  and  looked  at  him  sharply. 

"  I'm  sorry,  sir,  but  it's  advice  I  wish  to  offer 
you." 

"  Advice?  "  echoed  Van  Tuyl. 

'*  Yes,  I  regret  it,  sir,  but  I  consider  it  my  duty." 

Van  Tuyl  took  a  long,  questioning  look  at  Tom 
and  seated  himself. 

"  In  that  case,  pray  go  on ;  won't  you  sit 
down?" 

Van  Tuyl  lighted  a  cigar. 

"  No,  thanks,  I  think  I'd  rather  stand.  Mr. 
Van  Tuyl !  "  he  burst  out  ingenuously,  "  I  suppose 
some  people  would  say  that  after  all  you've  done 
for  St.  Giles  and  me  it  wasn't  in  my  place  to  sug- 
gest anything." 

"  Nonsense,  Tom,"  said  Van  Tuyl  lightly,  then 
he  added  as  he  took  another  long  look  at  the 
young  clergyman.  "  Do  you  know  you're  getting 
to  look  like  your  dear  mother  every  day?  " 

"  No,  am  I?  "  smiled  Tom,  and  for  the  moment 


132  ROMANCE 

his  face  lost  its  determined,  dogged  expression. 
But  instantly  he  returned  to  the  attack  and  assumed 
what  Susan  was  wont  to  call  "  his  preachy,  pulpit 
manner."  "  But  after  all  I'm  your  rector  and  I 
feel  I've  got  to  —  to  — " 

"  Quite  right,  my  boy,"  said  Van  Tuyl,  realiz- 
ing for  the  first  time  something  of  what  was  com- 
ing, "  I  respect  your  feelings.  Well?  " 

"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Van  Tuyl,  there's  a  woman 
downstairs  whose  reputation  is  —  is  —  well  — • 
questionable,  to  say  the  least?" 

"  Whoever  she  is,  Tom,  she's  one  of  my 
guests,"  said  Van  Tuyl  calmly. 

"  But  don't  you  realize,  sir,"  persisted  Tom, 
"  she's  a  woman  whose  —  whose  immoralities  are 
notorious?  " 

"  Tom !     Tom !  "  said  Van  Tuyl  sternly. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  I'm  speaking  as  the  rector  of 
St.  Giles." 

Van  Tuyl  bowed  his  head. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said  in  an  ominous  tone. 

Unconsciously  Tom's  "  pulpit  manner  "  became 
more  pronounced:  "A  type  that  disgraces  even 
the  effete  and  vice  worn  civilization  from  which  it 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     133 

springs,  but  from  which,  thank  God,  our  country 
has  been  comparatively  free." 

"  Ah!  "  said  Van  Tuyl  politely. 

"  We  have  our  sins,  sir.  I  know  them  well," 
said  Tom.  "  But  vice  till  now  was  forced  to  crawl 
her  way  through  poverty  and  darkness  or  bask  in 
the  false  light  of  an  abandoned  stage.  She  never 
dared  to  rear  her  slimy  head  and  look  into  our 
homes,  nor  touch  the  white  hands  of  our  wives  and 
daughters !  " 

"And  nieces?" 

"  And  nieces,"  added  Tom  hastily.  "  And  is  it 
time  now,  after  all  these  years  of  honest  decency 
to  open  wide  our  doors  to  a  Du  Barry?  To  wel- 
come Messalina  to  our  hospitable  board?"  re- 
sumed Tom. 

11  It  isn't  Sunday,  Tom,"  said  Van  Tuyl, 
mildly. 

"  I  ask  you,  sir,  as  friend  and  clergyman,  is  it 
fair,  is  it  wise,  is  it  right  —  that  your  pure  thres- 
hold should  be  crossed  by  Madame  Cavallini?" 

There  was  a  pause,  while  Van  Tuyl  looked 
steadily  at  the  clergyman. 

"  How  old  are  you,  Tom?  "  he  said  at  last. 


134  ROMANCE 

"  Er  —  er  —  twenty-eight,"  answered  Tom, 
lamely. 

"  I  wish  I  were  twenty-eight,"  said  Van  Tuyl 
with  a  wistful  smile.  "  Life's  a  simple  thing 
when  you're  twenty-eight." 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  loftily.  "  If  one  has  stand- 
ards—  yes!  " 

"Standards?" 

11  Of  right  and  wrong,  I  mean,"  persisted  Tom. 

"  Oh,  yes  —  I  had  those  standards  once." 

"Once,  sir?  "  echoed  Tom  in  a  sharp  tone. 

11  And  then  one  day  I  got  'em  all  mixed  up  — 
and  the  right  seemed  wrong  and  the  wrong  seemed 
right,  and  I  just  didn't  know  where  I  stood." 

"  Oh,  come,  sir !  " 

"  And  now  I'm  fifty-one  years  old  —  and  — " 
Van  Tuyl  gave  a  chuckle  — "  well,  I'm  dashed  if 
I  ever  got  'em  straight  again." 

"  Oh,  sir,  don't  talk  that  way,"  said  Tom,  dis- 
tressed. "  It  isn't  worthy  of  you  —  you're  too 
big  a  man  to  — " 

"  Oh,  I've  learned  a  few  things,  though  —  stray 
spars  which  I  clung  to  through  all  this  storm  and 
ocean  —  just  a  few  stray  spars,  Tom,  but  some- 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     135 

how  they  managed  to  hold  me  up.  One  is  how 
to  value  people  that  are  good  —  that's  why  you're 
rector  of  St.  Giles's,  my  boy.  And  another's  how 
to  pity  people  that  are  — " 

"  Bad?  "  said  Tom,  promptly. 

"  No,  not  bad,  my  boy  —  there  are  no  people 
that  are  utterly  bad.  But  there  are  some  poor 
devils  who  find  it  harder  to  be  good  than  you  — 
that  all." 

"  I've  been  a  fool,  sir,"  said  Tom,  impulsively. 
"  I  might  have  known  there  wasn't  a  word  of  truth 
in  what  that  puppy  said." 

"What  puppy?"  said  Van  Tuyl,  looking  up 
suddenly. 

"A  young  he-gossip,  sir,  who  reeled  off  lies 
about  this  woman.  And  I  was  ass  enough  to  be- 
lieve him  and  come  to  you  and  talk  like  a  —  like 
a  confounded  prig.  I  wonder  you  don't  throw 
me  out  of  the  house,  sir!  " 

"  You're  my  rector,  Tom,"  said  Van  Tuyl  with 
a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  forgive  me,  sir?  "  ex- 
claimed Tom,  penitently. 

"  There's  nothing  to  forgive,  my  boy,"  smiled 


136  ROMANCE 

Van  Tuyl,  as  he  arose  from  his  seat.  "  And  now 
run  downstairs  and  ask  Susan  for  some  supper." 

"  But  I'm  not  dressed,"  said  Tom. 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  Still,  if  you'd  rather  go  up  to 
the  library  she'll  bring  it  to  you  there.  Don't  tell 
me  you're  not  hungry!  "  exclaimed  Van  Tuyl, 
clapping  Tom  on  the  shoulder.  "  You're  twenty- 
eight  years  old,  Tom  —  Hello!  Who's  this?" 

Van  Tuyl  turned  toward  the  staircase.  There 
was  the  sound  of  many  voices  and  of  laughter;  the 
orchestra  in  the  drawing-room  had  just  struck  up 
the  strains  of  a  beguiling,  slow  Strauss  waltz. 
Then  above  all  the  babble  and  the  tumult  and  the 
laughter  came  the  sound  of  a  woman's  voice,  speak- 
ing in  broken  English. 

"  Go  Vay  —  go  'vay !  You  must  not  come  vit' 
me!  No!  No!  I  'ave  to  rest  jus'  for  von 
leetle  minute  bevore  I  sing !  "  cried  La  Cavillini. 

She  stood  at  the  top  of  the  staircase  for  one 
moment,  laughing  gayly  down  upon  the  group  o'f 
men  of  all  ages,  who  were  imploring  her  to  dance 
with  them.  She  was  a  bewitching  little  foreign 
creature  —  very  beautiful,  in  a  dark,  Italian  way. 
She  was  marvelously  dressed  in  voluminous  gauze, 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     137 

over  both  the  bodice  and  skirt  of  which  were  scat- 
tered tiny  roses.  Her  black  hair  hung  in  cork- 
screw curls  on  either  side  of  her  face  and  three 
long,  soft  curls  hung  down  her  low  cut  back. 
Crowning  her  hair  was  a  wreath  of  roses.  She 
wore  long  diamond  earrings,  a  riviere  of  diamonds 
was  about  her  neck,  and  many  jewels  gleamed  upon 
her  corsage  and  on  her  wrists  and  hands.  She 
carried  a  fan  and  a  bouquet  of  white  violets  in  a 
silver  filigree  holder.  Her  voice  was  soft  and  her 
gestures  quick  and  birdlike.  Indeed,  as  Tom 
Armstrong  caught  his  first  glimpse  of  her  she 
seemed  like  some  exquisite,  gleaming,  little  hum- 
ming-bird which  had  that  moment  alighted  at  the 
head  of  the  staircase.  Her  back  was  toward  both! 
Tom  and  Van  Tuyl. 

"  But  it  is  my  waltz,  Madame !  "  cried  one  of 
the  young  men,  three  steps  below  her. 

"  Don't  listen  to  him,  Madame !  "  exclaimed  an- 
other young  man,  striving  to  thrust  his  rival  aside. 
'*  You  know  you  promised  me  — " 

"  Oh,  gentlemans,  vhy  you  make  such  a  beeg, 
beeg  noise?  "  cried  Cavallini,  saucily. 

"  Because  you're  driving  us  crazy,  Madame!  " 


i38  ROMANCE 

called  a  deep  bass  voice.  "  We  want  to  dance 
with  you!  Can't  you  understand?  " 

The  little  prima  donna  raised  her  eyebrows  and 
struck  a  mock  serious  gesture. 

"Vhat?  Me  —  poor  little  me?  You  beeg, 
bad  boys,  you  make  of  me  — 'ow  you  say?  —  vone 
seelly  joke !  " 

"  We  don't !  "  "  It's  true !  "  "  Of  course  it 
is!  "  came  the  chorus. 

La  Cavallini  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed. 

"  Gentlemans !  Gentlemans!  "  she  said.  "  Vy 
don't  you  go  and  make  de  love  to  dose  be-e-auti- 
ful  American  ladies  vaiting  for  you  downstairs?  " 

"  But  I  want  to  make  love  to  you!  "  called  one 
gallant. 

"And  I!"  "And  I!"  "Me,  too!"  came 
the  babble. 

"Ouf!"  and  the  little  singer  shrugged  her 
shoulders.  "  You  cannot  all  make  de  love  to  me 
—  so  look  —  so  look  —  I  tell  you  —  ve  will  make 
a  bargain." 

The  men  were  clustering  about  her  now,  the 
staircase  was  crowded. 

"  You  shall  not  any  of  you  make  de  love  to  me  1 


"SHE     TURNED    TOWARD    VAN     TUYL,     STILL    LAUGHING 


139 

I  stay  here  vit  Meestaire  Van  Tuyl  —  until  I  sing. 
But  leesten,  now !  Vhich  one  of  you,  'e  catch  this 
preety  flower?" — from  the  flowers  of  her  cor- 
sage she  plucked  a  pink  camelia  and  held  it  aloft 
above  their  heads. 

"  Look !  Vhich  one  of  you  'e  catch  dis  — 'e 
drive  me  'ome !  " 

The  babble  on  the  staircase  rose  into  a  gentle- 
manly riot.  Rita  threw  the  flower.  There  was 
a  mad  scramble  down  the  stairs,  while  La  Caval- 
lini,  watching  the  fracas,  clapped  her  hands. 

"  Run  —  run  —  queek  —  qvick !  'E  has  fallen 
himself  down,  that  little  Meestaire!  Povrino! 
All  r-r-right,  all  r-r-right  —  you,  Meestaire,  vit 
de  beeg  mustache  —  Bene  —  capito !  You  take 
me  'ome!  " 

She  kissed  her  hand  to  the  rescuer  of  her 
flower  and  turned  toward  Van  Tuyl,  still  laugh- 
ing. 

"  Dey  are  so  frightfully  funnee,  dese  American 
gentlemans  — " 

The  words  died  upon  her  lips  as,  for  the  first 
time,  La  Cavallini  caught  sight  of  Tom.  He  had 
been  standing  perfectly  still,  staring  at  her, 


140  ROMANCE 

throughout  the  entire  scene  on  the  staircase. 
There  was  an  instant's  pause,  during  which  the 
diva  stared  at  the  clergyman.  Her  glance  seemed 
to  embarrass  Tom. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon!  "  he  exclaimed,  and,  bow- 
ing, went  quickly  down  the  stairs. 

Leaning  forward,  across  the  balustrade,  La 
Cavallini  followed  him  with  her  eyes.  Then, 
turning  to  Van  Tuyl,  she  asked  quite  simply: 

"  Please,  who  is  dat  young  man?  " 

"  Tom  Armstrong,"  answered  Van  Tuyl. 
11  He's  my  rector." 

"Rectore?"  echoed  the  singer.  "  Vhat  is 
dat?"  she  asked  vaguely. 

"  He's  a  clergyman." 

"  Cler-gee-man?     Vhat  is  dat,  please?" 

"  He's  an  abbe  —  a  priest,  you  know,"  ex- 
plained Van  Tuyl. 

"  Ah-h !  "  said  La  Cavallini,  comprehending  at 
last. 

"  Ah ! "  she  continued,  almost  to  herself. 
"  Den  it  vas  dat." 

"What?"  questioned  Van  Tuyl. 

The  singer  turned  away. 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     141 

"  Oh,  I  dunno.  Jus'  somet'ing  in  his  eyes  — 
it  was  so  deefferent  to  de  odder  American  gentle- 
mans." 

"  My  dear  Rita !  "  laughed  Van  Tuyl,  as  he 
gazed  at  her  admiringly.  "  I  don't  suppose  he'd 
ever  seen  anything  like  you  in  all  his  life." 

"No?  My  Lor-rd!  'Ow  very  sad!"  said 
Rita,  impishly. 

She  leaned  across  the  balustrade  again,  as 
though  to  catch  another  glimpse  of  the  young  man. 

"  An  'e  vas  'an'some,  too !  So  'an'some !  "  she 
cried,  provokingly,  turning  to  Van  Tuyl. 

Van  Tuyl  gave  a  chuckle. 

Hearing  him,  La  Cavallini  turned  and  caught 
his  eye.  They  both  laughed. 

Van  Tuyl,  still  laughing,  came  toward  her.  He 
took  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Rita,  you  little  monkey,  you  1  "  he  cried,  half 
chidingly. 

La  Cavallini  closed  her  eyes.  There  was  a 
smile  of  quiet  triumph  on  her  lips. 

"  De  beeg  Amer-r-ican,  'e  like  's  leetle  frien' 
to-night  —  eh  —  yes?"  said  La  Cavallini,  teas- 
ingly. 


142  ROMANCE 

"  I  don't  think  he  could  help  it  if  he  tried!  " 
laughed  Van  Tuyl. 

"  Den,  if  'e  like  'er  " —  Rita  paused  and  looked 
at  him  doubtingly. 

"  Well,"  asked  Van  Tuyl,  "  what  were  you  go- 
ing to  say?  " 

"  Den,  please,  vy  don'  'e  keess  'er?  "  she  purred 
softly. 

"  There,"  said  Van  Tuyl,  as  he  kissed  her. 
"There,  now!  How  about  that?" 

La  Cavallini  drew  away  from  him  suddenly, 
and  crossed  the  room. 

"  My  Lor-r-rd !     I  'ave  forgot  somet'ing  I  " 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Van  Tuyl,  following 
her. 

"  I  have  forgotten  dat  I  am,  oh !  mos'  fr-r- 
rightfullyee  angree !  " 

"Not  with  me?" 

"  Si  —  si !  "  said  Rita,  nodding  her  head. 

"But  why?  What  have  I  done?  My  dear 
child—" 

"  You  know,"  she  retorted  briefly. 

"My  dear,  I  don't.  Frankly,  I  haven't  the 
least  idea." 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     143 

La  Cavallini  sat  down  and  gazed  at  him  very 
seriously. 

"  Ssh !  You  mus'  not  say  t'ings  like  dat  —  dey 
are  not  tr-r-rue !  You  'ave  treat  me  ver'  bad  to- 
night !  Yes,  you  'ave  tr-r-reat  me  qvite,  qvite  — 
onspikable !  " 

Van  Tuyl  looked  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"  Why,  I've  invited  you  to  my  house,  Rita. 
I've  introduced  you  to  my  friends.  I've  enter- 
tained you  before  all  the  world.  Isn't  that  ex- 
actly what  you  wanted?  " 

"  You  ask  me  to  your  soiree  —  dat  is  tr-r-rue !  " 
cried  La  Cavallini,  indignantly.  "  But  you  aske 
me  as  an  artiste  —  not  as  a  f emme  du  monde !  " 

"  That  is  not  so !  "  declared  Van  Tuyl. 

"Ah,  no?"  she  retorted  In  a  flash.  "Den, 
please  vhy  you  ask  de  odder  singers,  too?  " 

"  Now,  Rita,  listen  — " 

"  I  vill  not  leesten !  You  t'ink  I  am  a  leetle 
« —  vhat  you  say  —  donnacia  —  une  p'tite  gris- 
ette— " 

"  My  dear,  you  know  I  don't  think  anything  of 
the  sort  — " 

"An'    eet   is   not   to-night   a-lone  —  oh,   no! 


144  ROMANCE 

Eet  is  two  —  t'ree  mont's  —  all  de  time  since 
fir-r-r-rst  I  come  to  your  mos'  ver'  diz-a-gree-a- 
ble  countree!  A-ah!  Eet  vas  not  like  dis  at 
Millefleurs  —  I  vas  not  dere  a  singer- r-r-r  from 
de  opera  —  at  Millefleurs  I  vas  a  qveen !  " 

"  Millefleurs !  Our  palace  of  a  thousand  flow- 
ers !  "  sighed  Van  Tuyl  at  the  recollection. 

La  Cavallini's  face  softened. 

"  Do  you  r-r-remember  de  night  I  sing  to  you 
de  Schubert  Serenade,  vhen  you  walk  up  an'  down 
below  de  vindow  —  ye-es  ?  An'  all  de  r-r-roses  in 
de  vor-r-rld,  dey  blossom  in  de  moonlight?  Dere 
vas  no  vind  —  de  sea  vas  qvite  still  —  an'  you 
valk  up  an'  down  —  up  an'  down  —  an'  alvays  I 
sing  to  you  —  an'  sing  —  an'  sing  —  an'  de  vind 
an'  de  sea  an'  de  beeg  gol'  moon  —  dey  all  of  dem 
leesten  to  me!  " 

"  Ah ! "  said  Van  Tuyl,  rousing  himself. 
"  That  was  Millefleurs.  The  roses  there  had 
brought  me  back  my  youth.  I  came  home  and 
lost  it,  dear.  I'll  never  find  it  again !  " 

"  What  you  mean  —  please?  "  asked  Rita,  per- 
plexed. 

"  I'm  fifty-one  years  old,"  answered  Van  Tuyl. 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     145 

Rita  instinctively  drew  away  from  him  a  little. 
"That  frightens  you?" 

"Ah,  no  — but— " 

11 1  know  how  you  must  feel,"  said  Van  Tuyi 
very  gently.  There  was  a  pause.  Neither  of 
them  spoke  for  several  moments.  Then: 
"Rita!" 

"Veil?  "said  La  Cavallini. 

"  Rita,  suppose  we  finish  our  —  our  friendship 
• —  suppose  we  end  it  here  to-night." 

"To-night?  "said  Rita. 

"  Give  me  your  hand !  "  exclaimed  Van  Tuyl. 
i{  There !  Now  we  can  talk !  I'm  fond  of  you, 
dear  —  I  always  shall  be  that  —  but  already  I'm 
beginning  to  disappoint  you.  And  I'm  afraid  I'll 
do  it  more  and  more  as  time  goes  on.  Look  at 
my  hair!  There  wasn't  any  gray  in  it  last  year 
—  at  Millefleurs!  But  now  —  and  next  year 
there'll  be  more!  And  I've  begun  to  be  a  little 
deaf  and  fall  asleep  In  chairs  and  dream  about  to- 
morrow's dinner.  My  rheumatism,  too,  came 
back  last  week — "  Rita  winced  and  drew  away 
her  hand.  "  Don't  blame  me,  dear.  I  can't  help 
getting  old." 


146  ROMANCE 

"  Don* —  don' —  talk  dat  vay !  "  she  cried  nerv- 
ously. 

"God  knows  I'm  not  complaining!"  Van 
Tuyl  went  on  quickly.  "  I've  lived  my  life  —  and 
it's  been  very  sweet!  I've  done  some  work,  and 
done  it  pretty  well,  and  then  I've  found  time  to 
enjoy  a  great  many  of  the  beautiful  things  that  fill 
this  beautiful  world  I  Among  them,  my  dear  " — 
and  he  bowed  profoundly  — "  I  count  your  voice 

—  and  you !     And  yet  the  fact  remains  I've  lived 
my    life.     I'm     in     the     twilight    years.     Oh! 
They're  golden  yet,  but  that  won't  last,  and  they'll 
grow  deep  and  dim  until  the  last  tinge  of  the  sun- 
set's gone  and  night  comes  —  and  it's  time  to 
sleep.     But  you !     Good  Lord !  your  life  has  just 
begun,  Rita!     Why,  the  dew's  still  on  the  grass 

—  it's  sparkling  brighter  than  your  brightest  dia- 
monds!"   He    touched    her    jewels    playfully. 
"  You  wear  the  morning  like  a  wreath  upon  your 
hair.     Don't  lose  all  that,  my  dear  —  don't  waste 
your  springtime  on  a  stupid  fellow  fifty-one  years 
old!" 

"  All  r-r-right !  "  she  said  coldly,  and  turning 
away  she  began  to  whistle  softly  to  herself. 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     147 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  said  Van  Tuyl,  watch- 
ing her  closely. 

Rita  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Vone  more — 'ow  you  say?  —  frien'sheep 
feenishedl  "  she  cried  in  a  hard  voice.  'Vone 
more !  "  Again  she  gave  a  shrug.  "  Oh,  che 
m'importa  —  ce  ne  sono  altri !  "  She  yawned 
ostentatiously  and  sniffed  her  bouquet. 

Van  Tuyl  looked  at  her  keenly.     "  Rita?" 

"  Veil—  Meestaire  Van  Tuyl?  " 

"Haven't  you  ever  —  loved  someone?"  he 
asked  her. 

"  'Ow  you  talk?  'Ave  I  not  love  you  two  — 
three  years!  " 

"  I  don't  mean  that,"  Van  Tuyl  went  on 
gently.  "  Isn't  there  someone  whose  memory  is 
dear  and  —  and  sort  of  holy  —  like  an  altar- 
candle  burning  in  your  heart?  " 

"  No,"  she  said  in  a  bitter,  hard  voice. 

"  Think  back  —  way  back,"  he  continued,  still 
very  gently.  "  Didn't  someone  ever  make  you 
feel  so  tender  that  you  didn't  know  whether  to 
laugh  or  cry  at  the  thought  of  him?  Wasn't  there 
ever  someone  you  wanted  to  help  so  much  that  — 


148  ROMANCE 

it  —  it  hurt  you,  like  a  living  pain?  Wasn't  there 
someone  who  — " 

Rita  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  Basta  !  Basta  !  Stop  eet  —  don' —  don'  " — 
A  moment  later  more  softly  she  asked :  "  'Ave 
you  felt  —  like  dat?  " 

"  Yes,"  Van  Tuyl  nodded. 

"  Who  was  she?  "  asked  La  Cavallini. 

"  Just  a  girl.  Not  wonderful  or  beautiful  or 
gifted  —  and  yet  —  she  meant  the  world  to  me." 

"What  'appened?" 

"  She  died  before  I  ever  told  her  that  I  loved 
her." 

La  Cavallini  turned  her  head  away. 

"  Eet  vas  a  good  t'ing  —  dat  she  die  so  soon." 

"What?"  asked  Van  Tuyl. 

"  Sometime  I  vish  dat  I  had  died  before  —  I 
ever-r  'ear-rd  dose  vor-r-ds,  '  I  lo-ove  you,'  "  said 
Rita. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

La  Cavallini  was  ironic  now,  and  as  she  spoke 
she  gave  a  curious  little  shiver.  "  I  never-r  tol' 
you  of  my  fir-r-rst  so  bee-eautiful  r-romance? 
No?  Veil,  I  do  not  often  t'ink  of  eet  —  eet  make 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     149 

me  feel  —  not  —  nize."  She  paused  and  then 
continued.  "  Eet  vas  in  Venice.  I  vas  jest  six- 
teen years  ol' —  I  play  de  guitar  wid  de  serenata. 
Ah,  Madonna !  Come  sembra  lontano ! "  she 
sighed. 

Again  as  she  spoke,  La  Cavallini  turned  her 
head  away  from  him.  "  Dere  was  a  young  man 
come  sing  vit  us  —  Beppa  'is  name  vas  —  Beppa 
Aquilone.  'E  was  'an'some  —  an'  'e  'ad  nize 
voice  —  oh,  very  light,  you  know  —  but  very  sim- 
patico.  Ve  stan'  together-r  an'  have  —  I  dunno 
—  vone,  two  duets.  An'  so  eet  goes  for  two  — 
t'ree  veeks,  an'  every  time  'e  smile  an'  look  at  me 
my  'eart-r-t  is  full  wid  gr-r-reat  beeg  vishes  an'  I 
feel  like  everyt'ing  in  all  de  vor-r-rld  is  new  an* 
bor-r-rn  again  —  an'  so  vone  evening  'e  tells  me 
dat  'e  love  me  —  an'  I  feel  'is  'ot  br-r-reat'  like 
fir-r-re  upon  my  face  —  an'  de  beating  of  'is 
'ear-r-rt  like  str-r-rong  blows  'ere  —  against  my 
own  —  an'  den  'e  sleep.  But  I  —  I  do  not  sleep. 
I  lie  so  steel  an'  qviet,  an'  in  my  mind  I  have 
vone  t'ought  — '  Is  dis  vhat  people  mean  vhen  dey 
say  —  lo-ove?  '  An'  so  de  'ours  go  by,  vhat,  an' 
de  night  is  feenish,  an'  a  —  a — 'ow  you  say?  — 


150  ROMANCE 

a  long  theen  piece  of  sunlight,  it  c-r-reep  in  through 
my  leetle  vindow  an'  it  shine  on  Beppa  vhere  'e 
lie.  An',  oh  1  'e  look  so  young  —  an'  den  de  sun- 
light— 'ow  you  say?  —  eet  tease  him,  an'  so  half 
vake  up,  an'  'e  veenk  'is  eyes  an'  say,  *  Ah !  Rita, 
ti  amo ! '  an'  den  'e  sigh  an'  put  'is  'ead  'ere  —  on 
my  shoulder  —  like  a  leetle  bab-ee  dat  is  tir-r-red, 
an'  'e  go  to  sleep  again.  Ah  —  oh  1  "  With  pas- 
sionate tenderness  she  went  on.  "  I  put  my 
ar-rrm  about  'im  an'  I  smile  an'  t'ink,  *  For  lo-ove 
I  vaited  all  night  long,  an'  wid  de  day  —  it 
come!'" 

"  And  so  it  does,  my  dear,"  said  Van  Tuyl. 

"You  t'ink  so?  Vait!"  cries  La  Cavallini  in 
a  bitter  voice.  "  In  tvelve  'our  —  tvelve  'our  — 
'e  sell  me  to  an  English  traveler  —  for  f eefty  lire ! 
At  fir-r-rst  I  t'ink  I  die  —  I  soffer  so.  An'  den 
at  las'  I  on'erstan' —  an1  laugh  —  an'  know  dat 
I  'ave  been  vone  gr-r-reat  beeg  fool  — " 

She  clenched  her  hands  and  struck  them  to- 
gether. "  A  fool  to  t'ink  dere  vas  some  better-r 
love  —  a  love  dat  come  at  mor-r-ning  an'  shine 
like  sunshine  " —  she  threw  out  her  arms  in  a  wide 
gesture  — "  yes,  all  t'rough  de  day." 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     151 

"  There  is,"  said  Van  Tuyl,  positively. 

"  Dat  is  vone  lie!  You  'ear?  Vone  lie  I" 
cried  Rita,  fiercely.  "  Love  is  a  str-r-ruggle  — 
ver'  cr-r-ruel  an'  sveet  —  all  full  of  madness  an' 
of  vhisper-r-red  vor-r-rds  an'  leetle  laughs  dat 
br-r-reak  into  a  sigh!  Love  is  a  hunger!  " 

"  My  dear,"  interrupted  Van  Tuyl  gently,  "  I 
think  you  must  have  suffered  a  great  deal." 

"  Yes ;  because  I  'ave  believe  vonce  in  a  lie, 
but" — and  she  shook  her  finger— -"  not  any 
mor-r-re !  "  She  made  a  grimace  at  him.  "  Oh, 
vhy  ve  talk  about  dose  bad  oF  t'ings  —  see  'ere  — 
I  blow  dem  far  avay !  Pst  I  —  pouf !  " —  with  an 
enchanting  smile.  "Now,  look!  Dey  are  all 
gone !  "  Van  Tuyl  looked  at  her  steadily  but  she 
did  not  answer.  "You  know  vhat  I  t'ink  — 
ye-es?" 

"  I  never  know  what  you  think,  my  dear," 
smiled  Van  Tuyl.  "  I  am  far  too  wise !  " 

"  I  t'ink  dat  you  an'  I  have  not  come  qvite  to 
de  end  —  eh?"  She  burst  out  laughing.  He 
patted  her  affectionately  on  the  arm. 

"  My  dear,  you  make  me  very  happy,"  he  said. 

"  So    you    vill    drive    wid    me    to-mor-r-row 


152  ROMANCE 

after-r-noon  at  four?  "  inquired  Rita,  as  though 
making  some  great  concession. 

"I'm  honored!" 

"  I  tell  you  somet'ing  — "  cried  the  little  singer, 
cuddling  up  to  him  once  more. 

"Well?" 

"  You  are  naught-tee  —  but  I  like  you  f-r-r- 
rightfull-ee  much  I  " 

Downstairs  a  waltz  was  playing.  Van  Tuyl 
hastily  kissed  Rita's  hand. 

"  Good  Heavens  1  I've  forgotten  I'm  a  host ! 
What  will  those  wretched  people  think!  My 
arm!" 

"  Vhen  mus'  I  sing?  "  asked  La  Cavallini. 

"  Let's  see.  I've  asked  Artot  and  Capoui  to 
do  the  duet  from  '  La  Traviata  ' —  and  then  I 
want  the  sextette  from  *  Lucia  ' —  and  after  that 
we'll  all  be  ready  for  the  Golden  Nightingale !  " 

She  threw  herself  upon  the  sofa  and  gave  a 
long  sigh  of  relief.  "  De  Golden  Nightingale  vill 
r-r-rest  alone  'ere  till  de  time  is  come.  An',  oh! 
Sen'  someone  vid  r-red  vine  an'  lemon  juice  — 
she  is  so  tir-r-red  she  cannot  sing  vidout!  " 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     153 

"That's  all?  You're  sure  there's  nothing  else 
you  want?  " 

"  Dat's  all." 

Van  Tuyl  paused  at  the  top  of  the  stairs. 

"  You're  beautiful  to-night,"  he  said,  ardently, 
as  he  leaned  on  the  balustrade. 

Rita  roared  with  laughter.  She  stared  at  him 
defiantly.  "  Vhy  not?  My  star-r-r  is  Venus  —  I 
vas  bor-r-n  for  love  !  " 

"  O  love  forever  in  thy  glory  go !  "  he  quoted 
tenderly,  and  with  a  farewell  kiss  of  his  hand  he 
went  downstairs. 

For  a  few  moments  La  Cavallini  lay  listening 
to  the  insistent  rhythm  of  the  waltz.  She  whis- 
tled it  under  her  breath,  looking  straight  up  into 
the  air  and  "  conducted  "  it  gently  with  one  sway- 
ing hand.  Then  her  whistling  ceased;  she  hud- 
dled herself  up  on  the  sofa  and  began  to  smile 
reminiscently.  Finally,  growing  really  drowsy, 
for  she  had  had  an  exhausting  night's  work  at  the 
theater,  she  stretched  herself  out  slowly  like  some 
dangerous  young  panther  and  closed  her  eyes. 

She  heard  footsteps  behind  her,  but  not  so  much 


154  ROMANCE 

as  an  eyelid  quivered.  Then  she  heard  Tom's 
voice  exclaiming: 

"  Mr.  Van  Tuyl,  your  —  Oh  I  I  beg  your 
pardon.  I  did  not  know  I  was  disturbing  you.  I 
was  looking  for  Mr.  Van  — " 

"Eh?  Vat?"  La  Cavallini  suddenly  opened 
her  eyes  and  gazed  up  at  the  clergyman  saucily, 
like  some  inquisitive  little  squirrel. 

Tom  grew  more  and  more  embarrassed.  His 
cheeks  were  fiery  red.  He  turned  to  go. 

"  You  ar-r-r-re  going?  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  half 
imploring  tone  which  seemed  meant  to  insinuate 
he  was  leaving  her  all  alone  in  this  world. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon?  "  said  Tom,  pausing,  and 
then,  Adamlike,  taking  one  step  toward  her. 

"  Don't  go  —  please."  She  smiled  still  more 
imploringly. 

"  But  I  —  I  — "  stuttered  Tom,  at  a  loss  for 
words. 

La  Cavallini  went  on  beguilingly:  "  I  vas  jost 
begun  to  be  a  leetle  —  ow  you  say  ?  —  lone-lee  ? 
An'  now  a  nize  young  man  come  —  Oh  1  My 
Lord !  I  am  so  gla-ad  I  " 

She  smiled  at  him  bewitchingly. 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     155 

"  You're  sure  —  I'm  not  —  intruding  ?  "  said 
Tom,  still  bashfully. 

"But  no!  Come  in  —  an' — 'ow  you  say? 
Oh,  yes !  make  your-r-rself  qvite  to  'ome !  " 

"  Er  —  thank  you."  Tom  sat  down  on  a  chair 
some  fifteen  feet  away  from  the  sofa. 

"  Vhy  you  sect  vay,  vay  over  der-re?"  cried 
La  Cavallini. 

"Why  —  er  —  er  —  I  don't  know  — I"—- 
Tom  rose  and  came  nearer.  She  was  cajoling  him 
sweetly  now  as  she  might  some  tiny  baby  that 
wouldn't  go  to  sleep. 

"  Ar-r-r-re  you  afr-r-r-raid  of  me?  I  vill  not 
'urt  you  —  no !  I  like  de  young  men.  Please 
come !  Sect  'ere !  " 

She  pointed  to  a  chair  at  the  foot  of  the 
couch. 

"  You're  —  very  kind,"  said  Tom  as  he  sat 
down. 

La  Cavallini  lay  back  and  gave  a  sigh  of  sat- 
isfaction. 

"  A-ah !  "  She  smiled  at  him.  There  was  a 
pause,  and  then  she  asked  roguishly:  "What 
makes  your-r-r  face  so  r-r-red?  " 


156  ROMANCE 

"  My  face ! "  cried  Tom  in  consternation. 
"Why,  what's  the  matter  with  it?" 

"  Eet  is  de  r-r-reddest  t'ing  I  evair  see  in  all  my 
life !  "  said  La  Cavallini,  in  a  dreamy  voice. 

"  It's  rather  —  warm  in  here,  don't  you  think?  " 
cried  Tom  in  agony. 

"You  t'ink  so?  I  am  qvite,  qvite  cool,"  said 
Rita,  provokingly. 

"That's  —  very  odd,"  pursued  Tom.  "I'm 
afraid  I  —  I  haven't  the  honor  of  being  —  pre- 
sented —  er  —  er  —  my  name's  Armstrong." 

"  Ar-rm-str-rong !  But  dat  is  not  all  —  eh? 
Now  wait  —  no  —  yes  —  ecco !  I  'ave  it!  — 
Teem!" 

"  Not  Tim,"  said  Tom,  slightly  nettled. 
"  Tom." 

"  Tome !  "  repeated  La  Cavallini,  vainly  trying 
to  catch  his  accent. 

"Not  Tome!     Tom!" 

"  Tom.  Dat's  r-r-right  —  Tom !  —  Tom !  " 
She  laughed  as  she  repeated  it  to  herself.  "  My 
Lor-r-rd  —  what  a  funnee  name !  " 

"  It's  not  a  real  name,"  explained  Armstrong. 
"  It's  just  short  for  Thomas." 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     157 

La  Cavallini's  mind  became  instantly  illumi- 
nated. 

"  Ah  —  Tomasso !  Si  —  si !  Now  I  on'ner- 
stan' !  I  vonce  'ave  a  frien'  name'  Tomasso  — 
oh,  yes,  ver'  long  a-go!  'E  'ave  jost  vone  leg;  'e 
vas  — 'ow  you  say?  —  r-r-ragpicker-r-r !  " 

"Was  he?"  said  Tom,  somewhat  abashed. 

Rita  surveyed  the  young  man  critically.  "  You 
look  mos'  ver'  much  like  'im,"  she  remarked. 

"  Do  I  ?  "  said  Tom,  pulling  uncomfortably  at 
his  coat. 

Rita  was  seized  with  a  sudden  happy  thought. 
True  to  her  race  she  expressed  it  immediately. 

"  Maybe  you,  too,  are  fine,  beeg  Amer-r-r-rlcan 
r-ragpicker  —  eh  —  no  ?  " 

"  Madame,"  said  Tom,  severely,  "  I  am  the  rec- 
tor of  St.  Giles's!" 

"  R-r-rector?  " 

"  Yes  —  I  mean  —  I  —  I'm  its  minister  —  it's 
clergyman  — " 

"  Oh,  cler-gee-man !  I  have  forgot !  "  said 
Rita,  quickly.  "  'Ow  beautiful!  An'  St.  Giles 
—  who  vas  'e?  Some  leetle  Amer-r-r-rican 
saint?" 


i58  ROMANCE 

"  St.  Giles,"  said  Tom,  sternly,  "  is  one  of  the 
most  important  figures  in  the  great  history  of  the 
Church  of  England !  " 

"  Is  dat  so?  Anodder  cler-gee-man  —  ye-es?  " 
said  Rita.  "  'Ow  fr-r-r-rightfull-ee  nizel  Ve 
never-r  'ear  of  'im  in  Ital-ee !  " 

"In  Italy!  Why,  you  don't  live  in  Italy?" 
A  thought  had  suddenly  struck  Tom.  His  look 
of  astonishment  showed  it. 

"  I  have  a  house  in  Florr-rence  an'  a  villa  on 
de  Lake  of  Como  —  yes." 

Tom  gave  a  nervous,  relieved  little  laugh. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,  then,"  he  said.  "  Do  you 
know  what  I  thought  for  just  a  moment?  " 

"No.     Vhatyou  t'ink?  " 

"  I  thought  that  you  might  be  Madame  Cavarini 
—  or  lini  —  or  whatever  her  name  is  1  You  know 
i — the  opera  singer?" 

La  Cavallini  hugged  herself  with  glee. 

"  You  funnee  —  man  I  "  she  cried  as  tears  of 
laughter  came  into  her  eyes. 

"  Forgive  me  —  do  1  "  said  Tom. 

"  It  vill  be  'ar-rd  I  "  said  Rita  with  mock  stern- 
ness. "  You  'ave  not  seen  La  Cavallini,  den?  " 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     159 

"I?  —  Oh,  no.     I  don't  go  to  the  opera." 

Rita  leaned  forward  confidentially. 
'  You  have  not  meess  much  vhen  you  mees  La 
Cavallini.     She  is  of  a  fatness  — "     She  made  an 
expressive  gesture  with  both  arms.     "  Oh,  like 
dat!" 

"You're  sure?"  asked  Tom,  doubtfully. 

Rita  nodded.  "  Vhy,  she  eat  tvelve  poun'  of 
spaghetti  every  day !  " 

"No!" 

"  Eh,  yes,"  Rita  went  on  enthusiastically. 
"  An'  ugly  —  oh,  Madonna !  'Ow  dat  womans  is 
ug-leel  Jost  to  look  at  'er  give  vone  de  nose 
bleed!" 

"  But  everybody  says  — " 

Rita  interrupted  him  with  a  gesture  of  her  hand. 
"  Leesten !  Vone  eye  is  made  of  glass  —  an'  'er 
nose  —  my  Lor-r-rd !  her  nose !  " — 

"What's  the  matter  with  her  nose?"  asked 
Tom,  thoroughly  interested. 

La  Cavallini  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"  She  'as  not  got  vone !  " 

"  But  surely  you're  mistaken  —  why  — " 

Tom's  serious  face  grew  graver. 


i6o  ROMANCE 

"  Jost  papier-mache !  "  shuddered  Rita. 
"  Stuck  on  to  'er  face !  O  Dio !  " 

"  Well,  I  suppose  it  is  her  figure  which  makes 
them  say — " 

Again  Rita  interrupted  eagerly. 

"  I  tell  you  somet'ing  ter-r-rible.  She  'as  a 
'umpl " 

"A  what?" 

"  A  'ump !  "  explained  Rita  with  tragic  empha- 
sis. "A  'ump  upon  'er  back!  " 

"  You  mean  a  hump  ?  " 

"  Si,  si !  "  said  Rita,  nodding.  "  'Er  dress- 
maker in  Paris  —  she  tell  me  dat !  Now,  vhat 
you  t'ink  —  eh?" 

Tom  rose  quickly  and  gazed  sternly  down  upon 
the  glittering  little  creature. 

"  Do  you  really  want  to  know?  "  he  said,  in  his 
pulpit  voice. 

"Yes  — tell  me,  please!" 

"  I  think,  madame,  you  have  been  guilty  of  the 
greatest  cruelty!  " 

"  What?  "  cried  La  Cavallini  in  amazement. 

He  fixed  her  coldly  with  his  eye. 

"Yes,  cruelty;  I  repeat  the  word!  "  exclaimed 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     161 

Tom  oracularly.  "  To  hear  a  woman  on  whom 
an  all  wise  Providence  has  showered  its  choicest 
gifts  deride,  hold  up  to  scorn  and  gloat  over  the 
physical  failings  of  a  less  fortunate  sister  —  for, 
madame,  you  are  sisters  in  the  sight  of  God  —  I 
say  this  heartless  act  deserves  a  far  more  serious 
rebuke  than  any  I'm  at  —  at  liberty  to  offer." 

La  Cavallini  could  restrain  herself  no  longer. 
This  joke  —  it  was  too  good!  She  covered  her 
face  with  her  pocket  handkerchief. 

"  Ah  —  don' —  don' — "  she  gasped,  shaking 
with  laughter. 

"  What  if  this  unhappy  lady  does  suffer  from  — 
exaggerated  fleshiness,"  Tom  went  on  relentlessly. 
"  Beneath  that  bulk  may  beat  the  tenderest  of  fe- 
male hearts.  What  if  one  eye  is  glass?  The 
other,  doubtless,  is  the  window  of  a  noble  soul. 
And  even  though  she  bears  a  hump  upon  her  back 
she  may,  with  Christian  patience,  change  it  to  a  — 
a  cross." 

"  Don' —  don' —  Dio  mio !  I  cannot  bear-r-r 
it!  "  cried  Rita,  still  shaking  with  laughter. 

By  this  time  nothing  could  stop  Tom.  He  was 
absolutely  pompous  as  he  continued: 


1 62  ROMANCE 

"  I  am  glad  my  few  poor,  simple  words  have 
touched  you.  Never  forget  them ;  and  should  the 
temptation  come  again,  remember  that  a  soft, 
sweet  tongue  is  woman's  brightest  ornament." 

"Tschk!     Tschk!     Tschk!" 

Rita  pressed  her  handkerchief  over  her  mouth. 

"  Madame !  "  cried  Tom,  seeing  for  the  first 
time  that  she  was  laughing  at  him. 

"  I  cannot  'elp  it.     Oh,  oh  I  " 

Tom  ground  his  teeth  and  struck  one  palm 
against  the  other  as  he  turned  away. 

"  Madame  —  you,  a-ah !  " 

Rita,  exhausted,  gasping,  wiped  her  eyes. 

"Oh  — oh!     My  Lor-r-rd!" 

A  liveried  servant  came  from  downstairs  carry- 
ing a  silver  tray  with  glasses,  a  carafe  and  a  de- 
canter of  wine. 

"The  wine,  madame,"  said  the  servant,  bow- 
ing. 

"  P-put  it  'ere  —  on  dis  leetle  table." 

She  indicated  a  little  table  by  the  head  of  the 
couch.  The  servant  placed  the  tray  upon  it. 

"Is  that  all,  madame?" 

"  Yes  —  dat  is  all." 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     163 

"  Good  night,"  said  Tom  stiffly,  about  to  fol- 
low the  servant  downstairs. 

"You  are  not  going?"  gasped  La  Cavallim. 

"  After  what  has  occurred  I  see  no  reason  for 
staying." 

"  All  r-right,"  she  said  carelessly  as  she  rose 
and  occupied  herself  with  an  elaborate  mixing  of 
the  wine  and  lemon  juice  and  water. 

Tom  lingered.  She  paid  no  attention  to  him. 
He  might  have  been  a  mile  away  for  all  she  cared 
seemingly. 

"  Aren't  you  sorry  for  making  fun  of  me?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Oh  —  so  fr-r-rightfull-ee  sorr-r-ry !  " 

And  Rita  began  to  toss  the  wine  from  one 
glass  to  another. 

'  You  don't  look  it,"  said  Tom  doubtfully. 

"  Is  dat  so?     Gooda-by!  "  said  Rita  calmly. 

Tom  walked  to  the  stairs,  paused,  hesitated, 
then  slowly  came  back  and  sat  down  in  his  old 
chair. 

"  Madame  — "  Tom  spoke  apologetically. 

"  Oh,  I  t'ought  you  gone !  "  she  sniffed  in  a 
superior  manner. 


164  ROMANCE 

"  So  long  as  you're  sincerely  sorry,"  said  Tom 
with  dignity,  "  so  long  as  you  truly  repent,  I  don't 
suppose  there's  any  need  of  me  going." 

La  .Cavallini  paid  no  attention  to  him.  She 
kept  on  whistling  gayly. 

"Look!  See  how  bee-eautiful  I  do  it!"  she 
exclaimed,  her  voice  softening  as  she  poured  the 
drink  from  one  glass  to  another.  "  Some  vone 
who  vas  vonce  ver'  fon'  of  me  'e  teach  me 
dis." 

Tom  stared  at  her  hypnotized.  She  filled  both 
glasses. 

"  Der-re,  dat  is  for  you." 

Tom  roused  himself  into  an  effort.  "  Thanks, 
I  —  I  don't  take  stimulants." 

"  Not  even  vhen  I  give  dem?  "  she  said  softly. 
She  held  out  the  glass  and  smiled.  Reluctantly 
he  took  it. 

"Ah,  dat  isr-r-right!" 

She  lifted  her  own  glass. 

"Now  vhat  ve  dreenk  to,  eh?"  Suddenly: 
"  Ecco,  dat  nice  ol'  cler-r-gee-man,  St.  Giles ! 
You  don't  like  dat,  no?"  Then,  seeing  his  dis- 
gust, she  added:  "Den,  'ow  you  like  it  if  I 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     165 

dreenk  to  vhat  I  see  in  your  eyes  an'  you  dreenk 
to  vhat  you  see  in  mine?  " 

She  stared  at  him  steadily  with  a  mysterious 
look  in  her  eyes.  He  could  not  take  his  gaze 
away  from  her.  Eye  to  eye,  neither  faltering  for 
an  instant,  both  raised  their  glasses  and  drank. 
From  below  could  be  heard  'voices  singing  the 
sextet  from  "Lucia."  "What  are  you?  Tell 
me.  I  don't  understand,"  said  Tom  in  an  odd 
tone. 

Strange  and  broken  as  her  accent  was  La  Caval- 
lini's  knowledge  of  English  was  by  no  means  as 
primitive  as  her  speech  proclaimed.  She  had 
studied  the  language  zealously  under  good 
teachers  for  years.  Her  mental  grasp  of  it  was 
excellent,  so  as  Tom  put  this  strange  "  What  are 
you?  "  to  her,  some  old  lines  from  a  half  forgot- 
ten speech  in  an  Italian  drama  in  which  she  had 
played  a  sorceress  came  to  her  mind.  Slowly, 
laboriously,  as  well  as  her  mastery  of  the  language 
would  permit  her,  with  her  eyes  still  fixed  on 
Tom,  she  translated  this  high-flown  speech  from 
her  language  into  his : 

"  I  am  a  cup  —  all  full  of  priceless  vine !     I 


1 66  ROMANCE 

stan'  upon  an  altar  built  of  gol'  an'  pearls  an' 
paid  for  wid  de  blood  an'  tear-rs  of  men!  De 
steam  of  per-rfume  dat  fills  all  de  air;  it  is  de 
t'oughts  of  me  in  poets'  'ear-rts  —  de  vhite  flowers 
lying  at  my  feet,  dey  are  de  young  boys'  bee-auti-ful 
deep  dr-r-reams!  My  doors  are  open  vide  to 
all  de  vor-r-rld!  I  shine  in  dis  gr-r-reat  dar-rk- 
ness  like  a  living  star,  an'  somevhere  —  sometime 
every  man  'as  'ear-rd  my  voice  — '  Come,  O  you 
t'ir-rsty  vones  —  come,  dere  is  vine  for  all! ' 

Tom  drew  toward  her. 

"Who  are  you?  What's  your  name?"  he 
asked  mysteriously. 

"Oh,  vhy  you  ask?" 

Tom,  never  taking  his  eyes  from  her,  said: 

"  Because  I  want  to  see  you  again  —  and  again 
—  I  want  to  ask  you  things.  I  want  to  know 
you—" 

"  Ah,  poor  young  man,"  interrupted  Rita;  "  all 
dat  can  never-r  be !  " 

Tom  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  It  must  —  it's  got  to  be !  "  he  cried. 

"Ssh!"  said  Rita  gently.  "  Don'  make  a 
noise."  Then  impulsively:  "Come  'ere!" 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     167 

He  came  to  the  side  of  the  couch. 

"  Kneel  down  —  dere  —  like  dat.  Close  — 
close,  so  ve  can  talk." 

She  picked  up  her  bouquet. 

"  You  see  my  violets  'ere  —  so  sveet  an'  f  r-r- 
resh  an'  bee-eautiful?  'Ow  long  you  t'ink  dey 
last?" 

"  A  long  time,  if  you  treat  them  well,"  an- 
swered Tom. 

"Now  look!" 

She  pulled  the  flowers  in  handfuls  from  the 
bouquet. 

"  I  pr-r-ress  dem  on  my  face  an'  neck;  I  feel 
dere  fr-r-reshness  on  my  eyes  an'  'air-r;  I  dreenk 
dere  sveetness  like  I  dreenk  new  vine." 

"  You're  crushing  them  I  "  cried  Tom  warn- 
ingly. 

"  Vhat  does  it  matter?  I  have  keess  dem  — 
an'  dey  vere  bor-r-rn  to  die." 

She  snatched  up  two  great  handfuls  and  cov- 
ered his  face  with  them. 

"  Don'  t'ink  sad  t'oughts  of  vhat  mus'  be  — 
jost  laugh  an'  love  dem.  Dat  is  all  dey  need." 

She  plied  him  with  more  blossoms. 


1 68  ROMANCE 

"  Take  dese  —  an'  desc  —  take  mor-r-re.  Oh, 
take  dem  all." 

She  threw  a  last  handful  into  the  air.  The 
flowers  fell  all  about  them. 

"  Dere  " — showing  the  bouquet  holder — "it 
is  empty.  Not  vone  is  left  to  take  home  vhen 
I  go.  You  on'erstan'?" 

"No;  tell  me—" 

"  Our  meeting  'ere  to-night,"  said  Rita,  tend- 
erly. "What  is  it  but  a  bunch  of  violets?  Of 
flower-r-rs  dat  ve  smell  an'  love  an'  t'row  into 
de  air-r?  Vhy  should  ve  take  dem  'ome  vid 
us  an'  vatch  dem  die?  I  t'ink  it  is,  oh!  much 
mor-r-re  vise  to  leave  dem  here-re  —  like  leetle 
memor-r-ries  —  all  sveet  an'  white  an'  scatter-r-red 
on  the  gr-r-oun' !  " 

"Couldn't  I  keep  —  just  one  or  two?"  said 
Tom,  in  a  low  voice. 

La  Cavallini  smiled. 

"  Dey  vere  not  meant  for  keeping.  Dere 
whole  life  was  to-night!  " 

"  I  know,"  said  Tom  simply.  "  But  I'd  like 
to  try." 

She  looked  at  him  and  shook  her  head. 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     169 

"  Ah,  you  are  so  young !  "  cried  La  Cavallini. 

She  picked  up  a  few  flowers  from  where  they 
had  fallen  and  put  them  in  his  buttonhole  as  he 
knelt  beside  her. 

"  Dere !  " —  Then  with  her  fingers  still  in  his 
buttonhole  — "  I  wish  — "  She  hesitated. 

"What  do  you  wish?  "  asked  Tom. 

Rita  answered  him  simply  —  almost  like  a 
child.  "  I  vish  I  knew  some  flower-r-rs  dat 
would  never-r  die !  "  He  seized  her  hands  and 
kissed  them  again  and  again.  She  tried  to  wrench 
herself  free. 

"  No  —  stop  it  —  what  you  do  — ?  "  she  cried. 

At  that  moment  Van  Tuyl  appeared  at  the  head 
of  the  stairs. 

"  Ah,  'ow  nize  you  are  to  come !  "  she  said 
smilingly  and  with  perfect  self-control. 

"  You're  ready,  madame,"  said  Van  Tuyl  with 
a  formal  bow. 

"  Qvite,  qvite  r-r-ready,"  said  La  Cavallini. 
She  turned  to  Tom  and  held  her  hand  out. 

"  T'ank  you,  m'sieur,  for-r  your-r  kin'  polite- 
ness. Gooda-by!  "  She  bowed  and  gathered  up 
her  fan  and  gloves. 


170  ROMANCE 

"  But  I  —  want  to  see  you  again !  "  cried  Tom 
hoarsely,  quite  oblivious  of  Van  Tuyl. 

"You  are  —  sure?"  said  Rita  doubtfully. 

"  Yes,"  gulped  Tom. 

Rita  became  instantly  the  woman  of  fashion. 

"  Den  vould  you  come  to  my  'otel  to-mor-r- 
row  after-rnoon  at  four-r?  It  is  de  Br-r-revoor- 
rt  House,  you  know." 

"  All  right;  delighted,"  gasped  Tom. 

Rita  smiled  on  him  indulgently  while  from  one 
corner  of  her  eye  she  watched  Van  Tuyl. 

"  An'  I  vill  take  you  for  a  leetle  drive  upon 
you-r  bee-eautiful  Fift'  Avenue." 

Van  Tuyl  bowed  ceremoniously. 

"  And  our  engagement,  madame  —  what  be- 
comes of  that?  " 

"  Our  leetle  engagement  is  —  is  — 'ow  you 
say?" 

"  Postponed,"  suggested  Van  Tuyl. 

"  Een-definite-lee,"  replied  Rita,  as  she  snapped 
her  fan  with  an  air  of  finality. 

Van  Tuyl  bowed.  She  moved  toward  the 
stairs. 

There  was  a  murmur  from  below. 


TOM  ARMSTRONG  GIVES  ADVICE     171 

Tom,  who  had  never  taken  his  eyes  from  her, 
now  stepped  forward  as  he  saw  her  leaving. 

"  Wait,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I'm  awfully  sorry,  but 
I  —  I  don't  know  your  name !  " 

"Oh,  of  course;  I  'ave  forgot;  so  stupeed. 
Vill  you  tell  'm,  Meestair  Van  Tuyl?  " 

She  turned  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  and  gave 
each  man  a  sweeping  bow.  At  sight  of  her  the 
crowd  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase  began  to  ap- 
plaud La  Cavallini.  As  she  stood  there  poised 
like  some  beautiful  humming-bird  again  her  hand- 
kerchief fluttered  to  the  floor.  Tom,  springing 
forward,  picked  it  up.  But  before  he  could  hand 
it  to  her  she  had  vanished.  He  stood  gazing  at 
it  blankly.  The  monogram,  "  M.  C."  in  one  cor- 
ner of  it,  had  caught  his  eye.  Tom  turned  dumbly 
toward  Van  Tuyl. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  really  didn't  know 
who  she  was?  "  said  Van  Tuyl  gently  as  he  saw 
Tom's  amazed  look. 

Tom  shook  his  head. 

"  No.  I  hadn't  the  least  idea."  He  paused 
and  leaned  eagerly  across  the  balustrade.  From 
below  rose  a  woman's  voice: 


172  ROMANCE 

"  Non  conosci  il  bel  suol 

Che  di  porpora  ha  ha  il  ciel? 

II  bel  suol  i  de'  re 
Son  piu  tersi  i  color! 

Ove  1'aura  e  piu  dolce 

Piu  lieve  1'angel     *     *     * " 

Tom  stood  leaning  over  the  balustrade  en- 
tranced, transfixed. 

Van  Tuyl  gazed  at  him  sadly.  A  world  of  re- 
morse lay  in  the  older  man's  eyes. 


CHAPTER  III 

With  a  smile  on  her  lips  and  a  tear  in  her  eye. 

— Sir  Walter  Sc6ttf  "  Marmion." 

'Tis  well  to  be  merry  and  wise, 

'Tis  well  to  be  honest  and  true, 
'Tis  well  to  be  off  with  the  old  love 

Before  you  are  on  with  the  new. 

— C.  R.  Maturin. 

The  fat  is  in  the  fire/ 

— Heywotd. 

"  O  my  prophetic  soul!  my  uncle!  " 

— Shakespeare. 

SUSAN    PROVES    TO    BE    A    BRICK,    AND    A    STOIC 

AT     THE      SAME      TIME SHE      ALSO     TURNS 

SONGSTRESS,     BY    REQUEST 

LA  CAVALLINI  sang  three  times.  Each  song 
created  a  greater  furor  than  its  predecessor.  Her 
final  bow  was  the  signal  for  a  tumult  of  applause 
during  the  course  of  which  the  Rev.  Thomas  Arm- 
strong very  craftily  made  his  escape.  Tom  paused 
not  on  the  order  of  his  going  —  either  to  say 
a  perfunctory  "  Good  night  "  to  Susan  or  a  word 

173 


174  ROMANCE 

of  farewell  to  his  host.  That  was  one  of  the 
most  human  things  about  Tom  Armstrong  — 
when  he  was  excited  or  hurt  or  had  had  his  pride 
stepped  on  he  invariably  dropped  his  good  man- 
ners and  thought  only  of  himself;  after  all  it's 
a  failing  common  to  man ! 

While  La  Cavallini  was  singing  he  stood  at  the 
head  of  the  staircase,  holding  hard  to  the  balus- 
trade, entranced  completely.  He  was  not  even 
capable  of  summoning  up  his  grievances  against 
her  —  while  she  sang.  But  when  at  length  the 
"  Golden  Nightingale  "  paused  for  breath,  Tom 
came  to  earth  with  a  sudden  thud.  He  turned 
quickly  to  see  if  Van  Tuyl  was  still  beside  him; 
but  that  courtly  gentleman  had  long  since  vanished 
to  fulfill  his  duties  as  host. 

Tom  snatched  up  his  cloak  and  hat,  hurried 
down  the  staircase  and  went  out  through  the 
private  door.  He  walked  the  streets  for  miles 
and  miles  that  night  before  he  finally  reached  the 
door  of  his  rectory.  And  while  he  walked  and 
thrashed  the  whole  matter  out  with  himself  and 
cursed  the  woman  —  as  far  as  a  clergyman  can !  — 
for  her  impudence  and  her  effrontery,  there  was 


SUSAN  TURNS  SONGSTRESS      175 

always  before  him,  like  some  gleaming  star,  the 
knowledge  that  he  was  to  drive  with  her  at  four 
o'clock  to-morrow !  So,  eventually,  Tom  went  to 
bed  and  slept  like  a  plow  boy. 

La  Cavallini  meantime  had  become  thoroughly 
bored.  She  lost  no  time  in  assuring  Van  Tuyl 
that  she  was  tired  to  death  and  desired  to  go 
home  at  once. 

Van  Tuyl  escorted  her  to  her  carriage.  She 
refused  to  allow  him  to  accompany  her  and  when 
he  held  his  hand  out  to  bid  her  good  night  she 
greeted  him  with  one  cold  little  finger. 

The  night  was  wearing  on,  the  ballroom  was 
already  half  deserted,  even  the  "  Boston  dip " 
and  the  two  orchestras  were  beginning  to  lose  their 
charm.  The  supper  rooms  were  still  crowded,  so 
passing  quickly  through  them,  leaving  Susan  to 
act  the  role  of  hostess,  Van  Tuyl  slipped  quietly 
upstairs  to  the  library,  where  he  knew  by  this 
hour  he  would  find  his  own  little  coterie.  For 
them,  and  for  him,  it  was  still  "  the  shank  of  the 
evening."  At  a  small  card  table  Lester  Wallack 
and  Miss  Heron  were  playing  a  game  of  bezique. 
Surrounding  them  like  a  halo  in  evening  dress 


176  ROMANCE 

were  half  a  score  of  men  and  women.  Mr. 
Winter  was  there,  Mrs.  Scott  Siddons,  Ole  Bull; 
close  by  Miss  Heron's  chair,  watching  her  as  she 
played  her  cards,  stood  a  slim  young  girl  with 
beautiful  red  hair.  This  was  Agnes  Ethel.  Be- 
side her  chatting  eagerly  stood  Augustin  Daly. 
Everybody  seemed  to  be  talking  at  once.  One  thin 
man  in  particular,  who  had  very  small,  snappy 
eyes  and  very  large  diamond  shirt  studs,  was  talk- 
ing a  very  great  deal. 

"Who  is  that?"  half  whispered  Agnes  Ethel, 
leaning  over  Miss  Heron's  chair. 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  actress  behind  her  cards, 
"  look  out  for  him.  That's  Allston  Brown.  If 
you  meet  him  assure  him  that  you're  only  just  fif- 
teen, because,  my  dear,  although  in  all  other  ways 
a  perfectly  charming  man,  he's  a  devil  for  dates. 
He's  the  bete  noir  of  every  editor  in  the  city. 
Ask  Charlie  Dana  or  Horace  Greeley  —  they 
know !  He  makes  their  lives  a  burden ;  he  would 
rather  write  letters  of  protest  and  correction  to  the 
newspapers  than  eat.  And  he  has  a  very  good  ap- 
petite, too!  He  can  tell  you  the  precise  hour 
when  Queen  Cleopatra  swallowed  her  first  pearl 


SUSAN  TURNS  SONGSTRESS       177 

and  the  exact  moment  when  the  Sphinx  cut  its  first 
eyetooth.  And  the  worst  of  it  is  he's  usually 
right,  or  at  least  not  a  living  soul  of  us  has  the 
courage  to  contradict  him.  But  never  mind,  as 
I  often  tell  him,  one  of  these  days  he'll  be  an 
historian  and  then  —  if  we're  still  alive ! —  we  can 
all  get  on  our  hind  legs  and  call  him  liar!  " 

She  laid  her  cards  down  and  raised  her  voice 
just  a  little. 

"  Allston,  old  man !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Just  a 
moment!  I  want  you  to  meet  my  young  pupil, 
Miss  Agnes  Ethel.  You're  coming  to  our  matinee 
of  '  Camille '  on  Saturday,  of  course?  I'm  rely- 
ing on  you  and  Mr.  Winter  to  see  us  through," 
and  smilingly  she  shook  her  head  significantly  in 
the  direction  of  the  dramatic  critic. 

As  Mr.  Brown,  full  of  ceremony,  advanced  to 
greet  Miss  Ethel,  Daly  turned  to  Miss  Heron. 

"  A  charming  girl,  Matilda.  Where  on  earth 
did  you  find  her?  Do  you  know  I  think  I'll  give 
her  a  chance.  She'd  make  an  adorable  little  West- 
ern girl  for  my  new  play  *  Horizon.' ' 

"  Her  red  hair  will  carry  her  through,  my 
dear  boy!"  said  Miss  Heron,  "  to  say  nothing 


178  ROMANCE 

of  her  beauty.  Technically  of  course,  she  knows 
nothing,  so  don't  be  too  hard  on  her  on  Saturday. 
But  she  has  grace  and  charm,  and  best  of  all  — 
as  you  and  I  know,  now  that  we're  getting  fat  — 
she's  got  youth.  After  all  that's  the  main  thing 
—  youth!" 

"  I  was  never  thinner  in  my  life,  my  dear  Ma- 
tilda," laughed  the  young  manager.  "  But  why 
on  earth  don't  you  go  in  for  banting,  or  if  that's 
too  strenuous,  why  not  take  up  the  Boston  dip? 
They  tell  me  Mrs.  Landor  has  lost  pounds  and 
pounds  by  it.  They  say  she  dances  every  morn- 
ing for  hours.  It's  simply  killing  the  theaters, 
this  infernal  new  dance.  You  can't  drive  the 
young  people  to  see  a  play  any  more.  This  dip's 
become  a  mania.  Why,  at  Delmonico's  and  other 
first  class  restaurants  they're  giving  tea  dances  in 
the  afternoon  —  killing  the  matinees  as  well  as 
the  night  performances,  confound  them !  " 

"And  why  not?"  replied  Miss  Heron.  "  It's 
a  healthy  exercise.  Dancing  keeps  lots  of  young 
people  out  of  mischief.  Since  you  advocate  it  so 
strongly,  I  think  I'll  take  it  up  myself.  But  as 
to  the  Boston  dip  keeping  them  away  from  the 


SUSAN  TURNS  SONGSTRESS      179 

theaters,  that's  ridiculous,  my  dear  boy.  They'll 
go  quick  enough  when  there's  a  play  worth  seeing; 
but  now,  when  only  this  morning  Mr.  Winter  as- 
sured me  that  my  poor  dear  '  Camille '  is  dead 
and  buried  and  when  even  you  .must  admit,  Augus- 
tin,  that  your  *  Leah  '  has  long  since  forsaken  her 
first  youth,  what  on  earth  is  there  worth  going  to 
see?" 

"Ah,"  said  Daly  with  a  sigh,  "if  only  I 
could  find  another  theme  like  '  Leah  ' !  What  a 
chance  that  was!  It  raised  me  out  of  Grub 
Street!" 

"  But  you  never  will,  old  man,"  chimed  in  Wil- 
liam Winter.  "  And  I'll  tell  you  why.  It's  only 
once  in  a  lifetime  that  one  finds  a  theme  in  which 
pity  and  terror  are  so  marvelously  mingled." 

"  But  I  say,  talking  of  themes,"  broke  in  Lester 
Wallack.  "  Have  any  of  you  boys  stopped  to 
notice  what  an  extraordinary  run  of  luck  that  old 
fox  Dion  Boucicault's  having  in  London?  Think 
of  it !  I  was  counting  them  up  only  this  morning. 
That  lucky  devil's  got  eight  big  whacking  suc- 
cesses all  running  at  once." 

"  Eight !  "  echoed  several  voices  incredulously. 


i8o  ROMANCE 

"  Yes,  eight,"  continued  Wallack,  beginning  to 
count  them  on  his  fingers.  "  And  every  damn  one 
of  them  a  hit.  There's  the  *  Flying  Scud,'  *  Ar- 
rahnapogue,'  *  Hunted  Down,'  *  After  Dark,* 
'  The  Streets  of  London,'  '  Elfie  of  the  Cherry 
Tree  Inn,'  at  the  Gayety  and,"  he  paused  to  think, 
"  just  at  the  moment  I  can't  remember  the  other 
two.  But  they're  over  there,  and  they're  doing 
business,  that's  the  great  thing!  By  Jove!  No 
wonder  the  old  devil  sits  up  and  has  the  cheek  to 
say :  *  I  can't  understand  why  anybody  should  go 
to  anybody  else  for  a  play  but  me.  I  can  supply 
the  world.'  It's  genius,  that's  what  I  call  it  — 
absolute  genius !  " 

"  Genius !  Fiddlesticks !  "  retorted  Agnes 
Heron.  "  Unless  by  genius  you  mean  an  infinite 
capacity  for  taking  pains,  and  other  persons'  plots. 
I  diagnose  his  case  quite  differently.  The  man's 
a  linguist.  The  trouble  with  you,  Augustin,  and 
all  the  rest  of  you  c  original  American  dramatists,' 
is  that  you  acquired  a  knowledge  of  French  and 
German  too  late  in  life.  Dion  has  forestalled  you, 
that's  all.  He  imbibed  all  of  the  tongues  of  Babel 
with  his  mother's  milk." 


SUSAN  TURNS  SONGSTRESS       181 

Two  young  men  approached  Miss  Heron 
rather  bashfully. 

"  Pardon  me,  Miss  Heron,"  stammered  one. 
"  But  we've  made  a  bet  and  we  would  like  you 
to  be  our  Portia.  My  friend  wagers  me  that 
Douglas  Stuart  was  your  original  Armand  Du- 
val.  While  I  claim  —  and  I  know  I'm  right 
—  that  your  original  Arm&nd  was  Edward 
Sothern." 

"  Gentlemen,  you  both  win,"  laughed  Miss 
Heron,  as  she  rose.  "  Douglas  Stuart  was  Ed 
Sothern.  But  he  never  had  the  courage  to  use 
his  own  name  until  after  his  success  as  Lord  Dun- 
dreary in  '  Our  American  Cousin,'  with  Miss 
Laura  Keene.  My  vis-a-vis  here,"  and  she  waved 
her  hand  smilingly  toward  Mr.  Wallack,  "  was 
equally  delinquent  in  that  respect.  Doubtless, 
when  you  two  young  gentlemen  were  children  or 
mere  babies  in  arms,  you  frequently  had  cause 
to  applaud  and  appreciate  the  histrionic  endeavors 
of  John  Lester.  Well,  there's  your  man !  "  and 
once  more  she  waved  her  hand  gracefully  toward 
the  actor.  "  It  was  not  until  the  recent  death  of 
his  father  that  he  presumed  to  call  himself  by  such 


1 82  ROMANCE 

an  illustrious  name  as  Lester  Wallack.  As  for 
me,  I  never  could  see  the  sense  of  it  all.  Thank 
God,  I  always  stuck  to  my  own.  Heron's  a  good 
old  name  and  I'm  proud  of  it." 

An  old  white  haired  gentleman  who  had  just 
entered,  approached  young  Winter,  who  by  all 
manner  of  means  was  the  handsomest  man  in  the 
room: 

"  My  dear  sir,"  he  said,  "  though  I've  never  had 
the  pleasure  of  meeting  you,  I  wish  to  thank  you 
for  that  splendid  article  of  yours  in  this  morn- 
ing's Tribune." 

II  Heavens !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Heron  in  a  whis- 
per to   Daly.     "  The  old  gentleman's  going  to 
thank  him  for  damning  my  poor  *  Camille  ' !  " 

II 1  referred,  of  course,  to  your  article  on  the 
*  speculator  nuisance,'  "  continued  the  old  gentle- 
man.    "  Four  times  in  the  past  fortnight  dur- 
ing the  absence  of  my  wife  and  daughters  in  the 
country  I  have  endeavored  to  witness  a  perform- 
ance of  Miss  Lydia  Thompson  at  Wood's  Mu- 
seum, and  each  time,  unable  to  secure  seats  at 
the  box  office,  I've  been  assailed  by  hordes  of 
minions  on  the  steps  of  the  theater  thrusting  pack- 


SUSAN  TURNS'  SONGSTRESS      183 

ages  of  tickets  in  my  face,  which  they  endeavored 
to  make  me  purchase  at  advanced  prices.  But 
much  as  I  admire  the  theater  in  all  its  branches 
and  burlesque  in  particular,  I'm  a  free  born  citizen 
and  I  will  not  be  imposed  upon.  If  what  you  say 
in  your  article  is  true,  that  hereafter  these  sharpers 
will  not  be  permitted  within  forty  feet  of  the 
theater,  I  shall  endeavor  to  secure  seats  for  to- 
morrow night's  performance,  as  my  wife  does  not 
return  until  Saturday.  I  thank  you,  sir,  for  your 
efforts  on  the  public's  behalf." 

"Good  Lord!"  cried  Miss  Heron.  "You 
don't  mean  to  tell  me  they're  reviving  that  old 
gag  again !  It's  as  old  as  Adam's  wet  nurse. 
Why,  thirteen  years  ago,  when  I  first  played  '  Ca- 
mille,'  we  used  to  make  that  announcement,  as  reg- 
ular as  clockwork  every  week.  It's  as  ancient  as 
the  old  excuse  for  bad  theatrical  business  —  de- 
claring there  are  too  many  theaters  in  town.  I 
read  an  editorial  on  that  the  other  day  which 
amused  me  immensely.  After  all,  including  the 
two  circuses,  we've  only  got  twenty,  and  you  must 
remember  how  the  town  is  growing." 

"That's  true  enough,"  said  Van  Tuyl.     "It 


1 84  ROMANCE 

simply  goes  to  show  how  history  repeats  itself. 
Why,  only  the  other  day  Charlie  Dana  took  me 
down  to  Horace  Greeley's  office.  We  were  look- 
ing over  some  old  newspaper  files  there.  The 
first  one  I  opened  was  a  copy  of  the  old  Mirror,  a 
paper  long  since  dead  and  gone.  Its  date  was 
1826,  and  what  do  you  suppose  the  leading  edi- 
torial of  the  day  was  headed?  '  Our  Superfluity 
of  Theaters.'  Just  for  fun  Charlie  and  I  looked 
up  the  advertisements  and  counted  'em.  They 
had  four!" 

A  deep  voice  broke  into  the  conversation. 

"  The  whole  trouble  with  the  theatrical  situation 
is  that  there  are  too  many  of  these  infernal  drama- 
tized novels;  what  with  old  Lady  Southworth's 
1  Hidden  Hand  '  and  Miss  Braddon's  '  Lady  Aud- 
ley's  Secret '  and  all  these  damnable  mushy,  sen- 
timental Dickens'  pot  boilers,  the  American  stage 
is  going  to  the  dogs." 

The  speaker,  an  extremely  powerful  and  formi- 
dable looking  young  man,  McKee  Rankin  by 
name,  was  just  then  luxuriating  in  his  first  New 
York  success  as  the  hero  of  the  Boucicault  melo- 
drama "  After  Dark  "  at  Niblo's. 


SUSAN  TURNS  SONGSTRESS      185] 

"  I've  just  left  Miss  Thompson,"  exclaimed  a 
young  newspaper  man,  Bronson  Howard  by  name, 
who  many  years  later  was  to  turn  playwright  him- 
self. "  Good  Lord !  What  a  jolly  woman  she 
is!  But  just  at  present  she's  furious  —  threatens 
to  return  to  England  and  all  sorts  of  things.  And 
one  can't  blame  her.  What  do  you  suppose  that 
fool  manager  of  Wood's  Museum  has  done? 
Not  content  with  the  crowds  she's  drawing  in 
*  Ixlon,'  he  wants  to  make  a  little  extra  money,  so 
he's  going  to  install  a  wild  animal  show  down  in 
the  basement.  Miss  Thompson,"  continued  the 
young  man  proudly,  "  showed  me  the  note  she's 
sending.  It  wasn't  a  note  at  all,  really;  it  was  an 
ultimatum.  She  ended  by  saying,  c  I  haven't  the 
least  objection  to  elevating  the  American  stage 
as  high  as  you  please,  but,  my  dear  sir,  I  assure 
you  I  haven't  the  least  intention  of  permitting 
either  myself  or  my  company  to  perform  over  a 
Yankee  Augean  stable.'  Oh!  And  by  the  way, 
have  you  heard  the  latest  one  on  P.  T.  Barnum? 
He's  building  a  grand  mansion  in  the  country, 
you  know;  or  rather  his  wife  is.  He  gave  her 
carte  blanche  and  told  her  to  spend  as  much  as 


1 86  ROMANCE 

she  liked.  So,  among  other  things  she  engaged  a 
foreign  painter  to  come  over  here  and  decorate 
the  three  bathrooms.  He  painted  the  ceilings  of 
these  rooms  exquisitely  in  little  naked  Cupids. 
The  day  the  house  was  finished  P.  T.  drove  up 
to  inspect  it.  It  was  his  first  glimpse  of  it,  you 
see.  The  moment  he  saw  the  Cupids  he  sent 
for  the  town  sign  painter  and  three  pots  of  paints. 
When  poor  Mrs.  Barnum  came  in  from  her  drive 
she  found  every  mother's  son  of  her  blessed  little 
Cupids  enveloped  in  an  impromptu  pair  of  panta- 
lettes. Some  of  them  were  yellow,  some  green, 
the  others  blue.  The  poor  lady  nearly  swooned 
of  course,  but  Barnum's  excuse  was  extremely 
characteristic.  *  After  running  the  greatest  moral 
shows  on  earth  for  all  these  years,'  he  said,  *  I'll 
be  damned  if  I'll  let  my  reputation  be  jeopardized 
by  a  lot  of  babies  without  any  clothes  on.'  " 

Presently  when  Miss  Heron  and  Miss  Ethel 
rose  to  go,  young  Daly  came  forward  and  asked 
if  he  might  see  them  to  their  carriage.  As  the 
actress  was  preceding  them  downstairs  little  Miss 
Ethel  turned  to  the  manager  and  said  timidly: 

"  Mr.  Daly,  it  seems  almost  too  good  to  be 


SUSAN  TURNS  SONGSTRESS      187 

true  that  you're  going  to  give  me  this  great  op- 
portunity in  *  Horizon.'  But  there's  one  thing 
I  want  to  ask  you  now  before  we  go  any  further. 
Miss  Heron  mustn't  hear  this  because  she  doesn't 
agree  with  me  on  this  subject  at  all,"  the  girl  ex- 
plained hurriedly.  "  It's  this.  Of  course,  if  I'm 
playing  a  simple  Western  girl,  I'm  only  too  willing 
to  wear  calico  or  print  or  any  cheap  little  dress; 
but  if  I  should  succeed  and  later  on  you  should 
cast  me  for  a  princess  or  a  grand  dame  or  even 
for  the  role  of  any  ordinary  rich  American  —  I'm 
perfectly  willing  to  buy  my  own  dresses,  but  won't 
you  please  let  me  wear  real  silk  or  real  satin  or 
real  brocade?  Because,  really  —  of  course,  I'm 
simply  a  novice.  I  don't  know  anything  about  it 
'from  a  professional  point  of  view  but  just  as  a 
young  girl  constantly  going  to  the  theater  —  it 
does  seem  to  me  " —  and  here  she  almost  whis- 
pered — "  that  on  the  stage  all  the  greatest  act- 
resses wear  the  most  shocking  clothes." 

Augustin  Daly  had  a  singularly  beautiful  smile. 
For  the  first  time  that  evening  his  whole  face  was 
alight  with  it  as,  leaning  toward  little  Miss  Ethel, 
he  said: 


i88  ROMANCE 

"  My  dear  child,  let  me  tell  you  a  secret.  I, 
too,  have  my  dream  of  the  theater  —  a  dream  I've 
never  mentioned  to  a  living  soul  until  now. 
You're  quite  right  about  the  actresses'  clothes  — 
they're  beyond  words  !  Nothing  but  make  believe 
rags  and  fustian !  But  this  is  my  dream,  my  dear. 
Twant  to  have  a  stock  company  —  a  company  ab- 
solutely and  utterly  within  my  own  control.  And 
when  I've  got  that  I  want  to  put  on  a  play  with 
real  rooms  in  it  —  not  these  rotten  canvas  con- 
traptions which  we've  been  suffering  from  for 
years,  but  rooms  with  real  doors,  my  dear  —  real 
doors!" 

"  What's  that  you're  saying  about  real  doors?  " 
exclaimed  Miss  Heron  turning  round. 

They  were  at  the  curb  now  and  young  Daly  was 
assisting  the  two  women  into  their  cab. 

"  For  once  you've  hit  the  nail  on  the  head,  my 
dear  boy.  In  real  life  there  is  nothing  half  so 
blasphemous  as  a  real  door  —  when  it's  properly 
slammed.  An  artist  can  express  in  that  one  slam 
a  whole  volume  of  expletives  which  no  dictionary 
would  dare  print.  In  emotional  drama  particu- 
larly, a  real  door  could  be  made  a  crescendo.  So 


SUSAN  TURNS  SONGSTRESS      189 

by  all  means,  Augustin,  when  you  bring  this  little 
girl  out  let  us  have  real  doors." 

She  held  her  hand  out  and  said  "  Good  night " 
to  him  with  one  of  her  rare  and  wonderful  smiles. 
"  God  bless  you,  old  man,  and  your  real  doors 
and  good  luck  to  our  '  Horizon.'  ' 

"  Good  night."  Young  Daly  waved  his  hand 
gallantly  toward  the  girl,  who  less  than  two  years 
later  was  to  create  the  roles  of  Frou  Frou  and 
Agnes  under  his  management.  "  Remember, 
Miss  Ethel,  you're  the  charter  member  of  the  Au- 
gustin Daly  Company;  you  shall  have  all  the  real 
frocks  and  furbelows  you  want  while  I  will  startle 
the  dear  public  with  my  real  doors." 

So  with  Matilda  Heron  as  witness  that  famous 
company  was  organized  which  was  to  give  to  the 
public  in  due  turn  its  Clara  Morris,  its  Fanny 
Davenport  and  its  Ada  Rehan. 

The  last  man  to  leave  the  Van  Tuyl  house  that 
night  was  young  Tangier  Floyd- Jones,  the  youth 
who  had  caught  La  Cavallini's  camelia  and  while 
waiting  for  her  to  redeem  her  promise  had  fallen 
asleep  in  one  of  the  anterooms,  with  the  flower 
still  in  his  buttonhole. 


190  ROMANCE 

u  Party's  over,  thank  the  Lord !  "  exclaimed 
Van  Tuyl  to  Susan,  as  he  closed  the  front  door 
behind  his  final  guest  and  cast  his  eyes  gloomily 
about  his  deserted  rooms.  Susan  thought  to  her- 
self that  she  had  never  seen  her  uncle  look  so  old. 

"  Don't  go  to  bed  just  for  a  moment,  dear,"  he 
said.  "  Let's  get  a  whiff  of  fresh  air." 

He  walked  to  one  of  the  long  drawing-room 
windows,  and  raising  it,  stood  drinking  in  the 
early  morning  air.  Susan  sat  down  at  the  piano 
and  half  unconsciously  began  to  strum.  Van  Tuyl 
sank  wearily  into  an  arm  chair. 

"  That's  right,  my  dear.  Play  me  something. 
Or,  better  yet,  sing." 

"  Sing!  Me  sing!  At  this  hour  and  after  La 
Cavallini  —  why,  uncle,  it  would  seem  like  a 
sacrilege." 

"  Don't  you  believe  it,  my  dear,"  he  answered, 
with  a  wry  smile.  "  One  tires  of  grand  opera 
arias  very  quickly.  I've  got  a  headache  and  my 
nerves  are  all  on  edge.  Your  voice  will  soothe 
my  fevered  brow,  my  child,"  he  went  on,  trying 
to  be  jocular.  "  What's  that  song  Tom  makes 


SUSAN  TURNS  SONGSTRESS      191 

you  sing  for  him  on  Sunday  afternoons  —  sing 
that." 

"  Do  you  mean  *  Christian  '  ?  "  said  Susan, 
rather  astonished  at  his  request,  for  she  knew  that 
as  a  rule  he  detested  hymns. 

"  Yes,  that's  the  one  I  mean !  " 

So  Susan  turned  to  the  piano  again  and  sang: 

"  Christian,  dost  thou  see  them 

On  the  Holy  Ground? 
How  the  troops  of  Midian 
Prowl  and  prowl  around  ?  " 

"The  troops  of  Midian!  "  repeated  Van  Tuyl 
to  himself.  "  I  never  appreciated  that  phrase  be- 
fore," and  he  smiled  grimly.  "  Don't  stop,  my 
dear,"  he  exclaimed,  as  Susan  paused  at  the  end 
of  the  stanza.  "  What's  the  next  verse  about? 
You  know  there's  something  very  soothing  about 
that  soft  sweet  voice  of  yours  to  a  tired  old  man." 

Susan  began  to  sing  again: 

"Well  I  know  thy  trouble, 

0  my  servant  true. 
Thou  wast  very  weary, 

1  was  weary  too. 


i92  ROMANCE 

But  this  toil  shall  make  thee 

Some  day  all  my  own 
And  the  end  of  sorrow 

Shall  be  near  My  Throne!  " 

"  Not  so  effective  as  the  first  verse,  is  it,  Su- 
san?" he  said  when  she  had  finished.  "Sounds 
rather  too  much  like  a  promissory  note,  don't  you 
think?"  Then  changing  his  tone,  he  asked 
gently:  "What  about  Tom,  my  dear?  Was 
I  right?  Hadn't  he  something  to  say  to 
you?" 

Susan  laughed  merrily.  "  Tom !  Why,  we 
hadn't  a  moment  to  ourselves.  How  could  he? 
Besides,  as  I  warned  you,  I  don't  believe  he  had 
anything  to  say." 

"  Listen,  dear,"  said  Van  Tuyl,  and  he  took  the 
girl's  hand  and  patted  it  fondly.  "  You  mustn't 
worry  about  the  boy  just  because  he  threw  a  few 
sheep's  eyes  at  a  pretty  woman  to-night." 

"  Worry!  Why,  you  silly  old  darling,  what 
on  earth  should  I  worry  about?  It's  the  best 
thing  in  the  world  for  Tom,  Uncle.  An  infatua- 
tion like  this  will  do  him  a  world  of  good.  It 
will  make  a  human  being  of  him.  No,"  continued 


SUSAN  TURNS  SONGSTRESS      193 

Susan,  laughingly,  "  it's  not  Tom  I'm  worrying 
about,  it's  Mme.  Cavallini." 

"  Why  do  you  say  that?  " 

"  For  this  reason,  Uncle.  Because  I  like  her 
for  one  thing,  and  then  because  I  have  a  woman's 
intuition  and  I'm  afraid  Tom's  going  to  break  her 
heart" 

"  Never  mind  about  them,  it's  of  you  I'm  think- 
ing." Van  Tuyl  went  on  hurriedly.  "  Why,  Su- 
san, dear,  if  I  thought  that  my  bringing  her  here 
to-night  was  going  to  bring  down  any  unhappi- 
ness  on  you  — " 

"  Don't  think  anything  of  the  kind,  dear,"  said 
Susan,  as  she  kissed  him  good  night.  "  It  can 
only  last  for  a  few  weeks.  You  know  she  sails 
on  January  first.  And  in  the  meantime  I'm  going 
to  assist  Madame  Cavallini  in  every  way  I  can 
to  give  Tom  a  liberal  education."  She  seized 
him  by  the  lapels  of  his  coat  and  shook  him  play- 
fully. "  Now  don't  worry  any  more  about  me, 
dear.  Just  you  go  to  bed." 

"  Good  Lord !  "  said  Van  Tuyl,  as  the  door  of 
the  bedroom  closed  behind  him.  "  What  an  aw- 
ful mess  I've  made  of  it  all !  " 


How  sad  and  bad  and  mad  it  was  — 
But  then,  how  it  was  sweet! 

— Robert  Browning. 

THE     OLD    YEAR    GOES    OUT    IN    A     FLURRY    OF 
SNOW  —  AND    OTHER    THINGS 

THE  last  day  of  '68  was  slowly  merging  into  New 
Year's  Eve,  as  Susan  suddenly  blew  into  the 
library  of  St.  Giles's  rectory,  much  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  Miss  Elizabeth  Armstrong,  Tom's  maiden 
aunt. 

"  Why,  Susan,  my  dear!  This  is  a  pleasure!  " 
exclaimed  the  old  lady,  pausing  in  her  task  of  ar- 
ranging a  huge  bouquet  of  roses  which  had  just 
arrived  for  her  by  special  messenger. 

"  I've  just  dropped  in  for  a  moment  to  wish 
you  a  Happy  New  Year,  Miss  Armstrong,"  said 
Susan,  shaking  the  snowflakes  from  her  muff  and 
stole. 

194 


THE  OLD  YEAR  GOES  OUT      195 

"But  aren't  you  a  little  premature?"  smiled 
Miss  Armstrong.  "  It's  only  New  Year's  Eve, 
my  dear.  What  nice,  cold  cheeks  you  have,  Su- 
san !  "  she  said  as  she  returned  her  kiss. 

"  I  ought  to !  "  laughed  Susan.  "  I've  been 
walking  for  miles  and  miles.  It's  one  of  those 
glorious  days,  you  know,  which  just  makes  you 
thankful  for  being  alive.  Tom  asked  me  to  drop 
in  at  four  and  hear  about  the  final  arrangements 
for  to-night." 

"  To-night !  "  echoed  Miss  Armstrong  with 
some  apprehension  in  her  tone. 

"  Yes,  you  know  —  the  midnight  New  Year 
service  for  the  lost  and  friendless.  It's  going  to 
be  much  more  elaborate  than  usual.  Tom's  hired 
a  brass  band  and  torches,  and  the  choir  boys  are 
to  parade  the  streets  singing  hymns  for  half  an 
hour  before  the  service  —  just  like  the  old  English 
waits.  He's  laid  out  a  much  longer  route  than 
usual  for  them,  too.  They're  to  march  from  St. 
Giles's  down  to  Eighth  Street,  then  across  to 
Washington  Square,  then  up  Fifth  Avenue." 

"Past  the  Brevoort,  I  suppose?"  said  Miss 
Armstrong  with  slight  sarcasm.  "  He  certainly 


196  ROMANCE 

is    leading    them    round    Robin    Hood's    barn! 
When  did  he  tell  you  all  this,  my  dear?  " 

"  Why,  yesterday,  at  the  circus,"  replied  Susan 
enthusiastically. 

"  At  the  circus !  My  nephew,  the  Rev.  Thomas 
Armstrong,  at  a  circus  I  What  are  we  coming  to  ? 
This  is  an  innovation !  I  sincerely  hope,  my  dear 
Susan,  that  you  were  not  responsible  for  taking 
him  there." 

"  Oh,  no,"  explained  Susan  gayly.  "  I  was 
there  with  a  big  party.  We'd  all  gone  to  see  the 
new  bareback  rider,  Melville.  He's  glorious ;  and 
such  a  figure.  I  ran  into  Tom  by  chance ;  he  was 
escorting  Madame  Cavallini." 

Susan  paused  and,  watching  Miss  Armstrong 
narrowly,  she  began  to  hum. 

"  '  We  met;  'twas  in  a  crowd.  And  I  thought 
he  would  shun  me.'  But  he  didn't  at  all.  On  the 
contrary,  Madame  Cavallini  asked  us  all  down  to 
the  Brevoort  to  tea.  I  don't  know  when  I've 
had  so  much  fun.  She's  perfectly  charming,  Miss 
Armstrong.  You  know  she  sang  at  the  Girls' 
Friendly  the  other  night,  and  all  the  girls  are 
simply  mad  about  her.  And  she's  got  the  sweetest 


THE  OLD  YEAR  GOES  OUT      197 

little  monkey,  Adelina  —  you'd  love  Adelina! 
And  she's  sent  me  a  box  for  her  farewell  perform- 
ance at  the  Academy  to-night.  Wasn't  that  sweet 
of  her?  But,  by  the  way,  where  is  Tom,  Miss 
Armstrong?  Is  he  upstairs?" 

"  No,  he  hasn't  come  in  yet,"  said  Miss  Arm- 
strong nervously.  "  He  went  out  immediately 
after  luncheon  —  er  —  to  pay  a  call." 

"  At  the  Brevoort  House?  "  smiled  Susan  mean- 
ingly. 

"  I  don't  know,  my  dear.  Thomas  never  con- 
fides in  me  nowadays,"  said  Miss  Armstrong,  still 
flustered.  "  But  I'm  sure  he'll  be  here  if  you  wait 
a  few  moments.  He  has  a  Deaconesses'  meeting 
at  a  quarter  of  five  and  I  know  he  never  would 
miss  that." 

"Wouldn't  he?  Well,  we'll  see,"  laughed  Su- 
san; then  noticing  the  flowers  which  Miss  Arm- 
strong was  arranging  in  a  bowl,  "  Oh,  what  lovely 
roses !  " 

;<  They're  mine,"  beamed  Miss  Armstrong 
proudly.  "  They  came  just  a  moment  ago,  with- 
out any  card,  too.  I  can't  imagine  who  can  have 
sent  them." 


198  ROMANCE 

"Ha,  ha!"  said  Susan  chaffingly.  "An 
anonymous  admirer  — " 

"  My  dear,  how  foolish !  "  Miss  Armstrong 
blushed  and  looked  embarrassed  but  exceedingly 
pleased.  "  It  is  rather  strange,  though,  I  must 
admit.  It's  the  first  time  in  years  that  anyone  has 
sent  me  flowers." 

On  the  desk  where  she  had  evidently  just  ad- 
dressed and  stamped  it  lay  an  envelope  directed 
to  "  Horace  Greeley,  Esq.,  the  Tribune,  New 
York  City."  Of  course  it  was  very  bad  manners 
on  Susan's  part,  but  as  her  eyes  fell  on  the  en- 
velope she  could  not  resist  exclaiming  slyly: 

"  But  surely,  Miss  Armstrong,  you  don't  sus- 
pect Mr.  Greeley.  Of  course  I  knew  you  were 
very  old  friends." 

"  Certainly  not !  "  said  Miss  Armstrong,  snatch- 
ing up  the  letter.  "  Even  if  he  had  been  the  mys- 
terious donor,  I  don't  think  Mr.  Greeley  will  ever 
send  me  flowers  again  after  he  receives  this  note. 
I  have  just  written  to  order  him  to  cancel  my 
subscription  to  the  Tribune.  If  I  have  anything 
to  say  about  it  that  newspaper  will  never  darken 
these  doors  again." 


THE  OLD  YEAR  GOES  OUT       199 

"Why,  what's  the  poor  old  Tribune  done?" 
asked  Susan,  exceedingly  interested. 

"  It's  a  matter  I  shouldn't  talk  to  you  about, 
Susan  —  a  matter  which  has  upset  me  terribly. 
I  wouldn't  speak  to  you  of  it  for  worlds,  my  dear, 
only  you  look  so  gay  and  radiant  to-day,  I  feel 
sure  now  that  my  fears  with  regard  to  you  were 
quite  unnecessary.  So  I  don't  mind  telling  you 
after  all.  Not  half  an  hour  ago,  Susan,  a  young 
reporter  from  that  impertinent  paper  stood  in  this 
ve'ry  room  —  and  what  do  you  suppose  he  asked 
me,  my  dear?  Me,  Thomas  Armstrong's  only 
aunt!" 

Miss  Armstrong  could  no  longer  conceal  her 
agitation.  Her  lips  were  quivering,  her  cheeks 
were  red  with  indignation.  Susan  was  leaning  for- 
ward expectantly.  Miss  Armstrong,  in  order  to 
gain  control  of  herself,  began  to  walk  up  and 
down. 

"  He  asked  me  if  it  was  true  that  before  that 
Italian  woman  sails  for  Europe  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, my  nephew,  Thomas  Armstrong,  intended  to 
announce  his  engagement  to  the  creature." 

"  But,  Miss  Armstrong,  you  can't  blame  the 


200  ROMANCE 

poor  man  for  asking  you  that,"  said  Susan  gayly. 
11  And  surely  you  can't  blame  the  Tribune  for  try- 
ing to  get  the  news.  Why,  as  far  as  that  goes, 
everybody's  been  asking  me  the  same  question  for 
a  fortnight  at  least." 

"What  presumption!  What  effrontery!"  ex- 
claimed Miss  Armstrong. 

Then  turning  questioner  for  the  moment,  she 
asked : 

"  What  did  you  say  to  them  all,  my  dear?  " 

"  I  didn't  say  anything  —  not  a  word !  I 
merely  smiled;  a  smile's  as  good  as  an  alibi,  you 
know,  if  a  woman  only  knows  how  to  deliver  it. 
And,"  added  Susan  with  rather  a  boastful  air, 
"  I  do  flatter  myself,  Miss  Armstrong,  that  I  know 
something  about  smiles.  I  could  have  talked  my 
head  off  to  all  my  questioners,  and  not  one  of 
them  would  ever  have  believed  me,  but  when  I 
smiled  in  that  superior  '  inside-information '  sort 
of  way  I  squelched  the  story  once  and  for  all. 
For,  believe  me,  Miss  Armstrong,  there's  not  the 
slightest  cause  for  either  you  or  me  to  worry. 
Rita  Cavallini  is  not  going  to  marry  Tom  Arm- 
strong. She  isn't  such  a  fool." 


THE  OLD  YEAR  GOES  OUT      201 

"But  what  about  Thomas,  my  dear?  Of 
course  I'd  never  breathe  this  subject  to  anyone 
but  you,  Susan,  but  certainly  that  woman  has  de- 
moralized him.  She's  taken  him  to  the  theaters; 
she's  persuaded  him  to  drag  her  to  his  Girls' 
Friendlys,  and  now  you  tell  me  yourself  that  she 
dragged  him  to  a  circus." 

"  And  what  of  it? "  interrupted  Susan. 
"  Hasn't  it  done  them  both  a  lot  of  good?  *  That 
Woman,'  as  you  call  Madame  Cavallini,  has  done 
more  for  Tom  and  taught  him  more  of  the  things 
he's  got  to  know  than  you  and  I,  Miss  Arm- 
strong, and  all  his  deaconesses  could  have  done  in 
a  lifetime.  If  ever  I  consent  to  marry  Tom  I 
shall  never  rest  until  I've  had  him  made  a  bishop, 
and  in  order  to  become  an  effective  and  efficient 
bishop  one  must  at  some  time  in  one's  life  have 
been  for  a  few  weeks  at  least  a  man  of  the  world. 
So  please  don't  worry,  dear  Miss  Armstrong. 
Tom's  merely  going  through  a  chrysalis  state. 
He  has  an  obsession  and  it's  going  to  do  him  a 
great  deal  of  good.  Obsessions,  you  know," 
concluded  Susan  sagely,  "  never  last  very 
long." 


202  ROMANCE 

There  was  a  ring  at  the  doorbell,  and  the  man- 
servant announced  "  Mr.  Van  Tuyl." 

"  Ah,  here's  uncle,"  cried  Susan  cheerily.  "  He 
promised  to  call  for  me  and  drive  me  home." 

"  How  d'ye  do,  Miss  Armstrong !  Real  New 
Year's  weather,  eh !  "  he  exclaimed  as  he  took  off 
his  fur  coat  and  driving  gloves.  "  Well,  Susan  1 
I  thought  I'd  find  you  and  Tom  here  waving  your 
arms  and  singing  hymns  and  generally  getting  up 
steam  for  to-night's  procession." 

"  Tom's  out,"  smiled  Susan.  "  I'm  going  to 
leave  you  here  for  a  little  chat  with  Miss  Arm- 
strong. Ralph  will  drive  me  home." 

"  Good  idea,  my  dear!  You  know  I  never  like 
to  keep  my  horses  standing."  Van  Tuyl  walked 
to  the  window  and  gazed  proudly  down  into  the 
street.  "  Have  you  seen  my  new  team,  Miss 
Armstrong?  Prettiest  sight  in  New  York! 
Look  at  that  off  mare  there!  Isn't  she  a  little 
witch?  The  highest  stepper  on  the  avenue  and  a 
mouth  like  a  French  kid  glove !  " 

"  She  certainly  looks  very  wild  indeed,"  said 
Miss  Armstrong  as  she  cast  a  brief  and  thoroughly 
uninterested  glance  out  of  the  window.  "  Good- 


THE  OLD  YEAR  GOES  OUT      203 

by,  my  dear,"  she  added  as  she  kissed  Susan. 
"  Tell  Ralph  to  be  very  careful  of  you,  I  always 
have  such  a  terror  of  high  steppers  of  every  kind." 

"  Good-by,  dear  Miss  Armstrong,"  said  Susan; 
then  added  in  a  lower  voice,  "  and  please  don't 
worry,  I'm  a  weather  prophet,  you  know;  and 
though  it's  rather  a  stormy  New  Year's  eve,  I  feel 
in  my  bones  that  we're  all  going  to  have  a  lovely 
Easter." 

The  moment  the  door  closed  behind  Susan  Miss 
Armstrong  burst  into  tears. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Van  Tuyl,  I  —  I  am  in  great  —  in 
very  great  distress !  " 

"My  dear  lady,  what's  the  trouble?"  asked 
Van  Tuyl  in  his  tenderest  way. 

"  I'm  really  ashamed  to  act  like  this  —  but  — 
it's  been  so  hard  carrying  it  all  on  my  mind  —  all 
alone—" 

"There!  — There!  Elizabeth,"  said  Van 
Tuyl  soothingly.  "  Count  on  me." 

'  You're  Tom's  oldest  friend  —  and  his  father's 
and  mother's  before  him  —  and  you're  his  leading 
parishioner,  too  —  and  the  chairman  of  the  ves- 
try—" 


204  ROMANCE 

"  I  know  —  I  know !  "  interrupted  Van  Tuyl 
comfortingly.  "  And  a  very  disreputable  vestry- 
man at  that." 

"  Oh,  save  him,  Mr.  Van  Tuyl  I  "  cried  Miss 
Armstrong,  breaking  down  completely.  "  Save 
him  from  this  dreadful  woman." 

"  I've  done  my  best,"  said  Van  Tuyl.  "  He 
came  to  me  on  Saturday  about  the  new  gymnasium. 
I  talked  to  him  as  I  would  have  done  to  my  own 
son." 

"What  did  he  say?"  exclaimed  Miss  Arm- 
strong, drying  her  eyes  quickly. 

"  He  was  very  sweet,  but  somehow  he  wasn't 
there  —  the  real  Tom,  I  mean.  It  was  only  the 
outside  shell  of  him  that  I  was  speaking  to." 

"I  know  what  you  mean!  I've  seen  it!  No 
matter  whether  he's  here  or  in  the  pulpit  or  at  his 
mission,  he's  with  her !  " 

"  Oh,  come,  come,  Miss  Armstrong;  you  mustn't 
be  alarmed,"  Van  Tuyl  went  on  reassuringly. 
"  She  sails  to-morrow  morning,  remember  —  we've 
less  than  a  day  to  get  through.  Hello !  What's 
this  — "  with  a  sudden  change  of  tone  as  he  glanced 
out  of  the  window. 


THE  OLD  YEAR  GOES  OUT      205 

"What's  the  matter?"  exclaimed  Miss  Arm- 
strong apprehensively. 

"  Why,  her  carriage  —  and,  by  Jove !  It's  she. 
She's  stopping  at  your  door!  " 

"  Not  Madame  Cavallini !  "  cried  the  old  lady 
in  amozed  horror. 

"  She's  evidently  going  to  pay  a  call,"  said  Van 
Tuyl  coolly. 

Miss  Armstrong  was  on  her  feet  in  an  instant; 
in  another  she  was  pulling  at  the  bell  rope. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?  "  he  asked. 

"  Tell  Roger  to  tell  her  I'm  not  at  home,"  she 
said  decisively. 

"  Don't  do  that,  my  dear,"  he  cautioned  kindly. 
"  Let  her  come  in.  Perhaps  I  could  say  a  word 
or  two  — " 

"  You'll  make  her  promise  not  to  write  to  him," 
she  cried  earnestly. 

"  I'll  do  my  best,"  said  Van  Tuyl. 

"  There  ought  to  be  a  law  against  such 
women !  "  Miss  Armstrong  went  on  vehemently. 
"  Why,  I'd  sooner  have  a  hungry  tigress  walk  into 
this  room  than — " 

"  Madame  Cavallini,"  announced  the  servant. 


2o6  ROMANCE 

"  My  dear  mees,  'ow  you  do,  I  cum  in  for  vone 
meenute  just  to  say  gooda-by  — " 

She  was  dressed  in  a  wonderful  black  velvet 
and  ermine  coat.  In  her  arms,  as  if  it  were  a 
baby,  she  carried  a  great  ermine  muff.  From  one 
end  of  the  muff  peeped  a  little  monkey's  head, 
adorned  with  a  tiny  pink  satin  turban  with  a  long 
aigrette. 

"Oh  —  what's  that?"  Seeing  the  monkey 
Miss  Armstrong  drew  back  with  a  startled  cry. 

"  Vhat? "  exclaimed  Rita,  noting  her  look. 
"  An'  I  breeng  my  leetle  bab-ee  to  show  you.  I 
call  'er  bab-ee  —  because  I  am  so  —  lone-lee  — 
you  too  'ave  no  bab-ee,  so  you  on'erstan' —  ye-es?  " 
Seeing  Van  Tuyl,  her  tone  changed. 

"Oh!  'Ow  you  do,  Meestaire  Van  Tuyl?" 
They  shook  hands. 

"  How  do  you  do?  It  seems  a  long  time  since 
we've  met,"  said  he. 

"  De  night  I  sing  at  you-r  so  bee-eau-ti-ful 
soiree !  To  me,  also,  it  seem  a  long,  long  time." 

"  And  Adelina  -— "  Van  Tuyl  held  out  a  finger 
to  the  monkey. 

"Comment  ?a  va,  mademoiselle  —  hein?" 


THE  OLD  YEAR  GOES  OUT      207 

"  Adelina?  "  exclaimed  Miss  Armstrong,  shrink- 
ing still  further  into  her  skin. 

"  Ye-es;  dat's  her  name  —  because  she  look  so 
much  like  Patti  in  *  La  Traviata.'  I  t'ink  she  'ave 
forgot  you,  sir,"  she  said  to  Van  Tuyl. 

"  Ah  I     You  ladies  can  forget  so  quickly." 

"  Ye-es?  Sometime  —  I  vish  you  men  for-rget 
a  leetle  —  too !  "  Rita  took  the  monkey  out  from 
the  muff  and  began  to  chatter  Italian  to  it. 

"  Why,  it's  all  dressed  up !  "  cried  Miss  Arm- 
strong. 

"  But  sure-lee  she  is  dr-ress !  "  echoed  Rita. 
"Do  you  vant  she  go — 'ow  you  say?  —  na-ked? 
Dat  vould  be  —  ah !  Shock-eeng !  " 

"  The  horrid  little  animal !  "  said  Miss  Arm- 
strong. 

"Tschk!  Tschk!"  cried  Rita,  warningly. 
"  You  'ur-r-rt  'er  feelings !  Ecco !  See  1  She 
begin  to  cr-r-y!  Bellaza  mia!  Tu  un'  faresti 
male  a  nessuno !  "  she  soothed  the  monkey,  taking 
her.  "  I  t'ink  she  is  like  me,  Meestaire  Van 
Tuyl,"  she  continued,  with  a  reproachful  glance 
toward  Miss  Armstrong.  "  She  is  not  'app-ee 
when  de  peoples  do  not  lo-ove  'er  1  "  She  slipped 


208  ROMANCE 

the  monkey  into  the  muff  again.  "  Ti  amo  — 
bambinello  mio  —  si  —  ti  amo  !  " 

"Ugh!  "  cried  Miss  Armstrong,  watching  her. 

Rita  placed  Adelina  and  her  muff  in  a  big  chair 
by  the  fire. 

"  I  put  'er  'ere  an'  she  will  take  vone  leetle 
nap.  Dormi,  bebina  cara  di  mamma  I  "  Rising 
and  turning  quickly  to  Miss  Armstrong,  she  ex- 
claimed: "Santi!  I  'ave  for-get!  I  'ave  a 
somet'ing  to  tell  you  fr-r-om  Meestaire  Tom !  " 

"  You've  seen  him?  " 

"  But  ye-es  — 'e  dr-r-rive  wid  me,"  said  Rita, 
innocently.  "  I  leave  'im  at  de  —  oh,  vhat  you 
say?  —  de  con-firm-a-tion  class — " 

"  Isn't  he  coming  home?  " 

"  Ye-es  —  jost  a  leetle  vhile,  'e  say."  The  lit- 
tle singer  held  out  her  hand  to  Miss  Armstrong. 
"  So  I  come  fir-r-rs'  to  make  my  r-r-respec'  to  you, 
dear  mees,  an1  say  gooda-by." 

Miss  Armstrong,  paying  no  attention  to  the 
outstretched  hand,  turned  to  Van  Tuyl.  "  When 
Madame  Cavallini  goes,  I  hope  you'll  step  up  to 
my  sitting-room  and  have  a  cup  of  tea  ?  " 

He  bowed. 


THE  OLD  YEAR  GOES  OUT      209 

La  Cavallini's  eyes  fell  on  the  flowers. 

"  A-ah !  De  r-r-oses  —  dey  ar-rive  all  r-r- 
right  ?  You  like  dem  —  ye-es  ?  I  'ave  chose  each 
vone  myself!  "  She  smiled  winningly  at  Miss 
Armstrong. 

"  You  sent  me  those?  "  said  Miss  Armstrong  in 
amazement. 

"  Jost  a  leetle  sur-r-prise,"  she  answered  wist- 
fully, "  to  r-r-remembair  me  two-t'ree  days  aftair 
I  'ave  gone  —  so  far!  " 

For  a  moment  Miss  Armstrong  was  speech- 
less. Then : 

"  Thank  you !  "  She  picked  up  the  bowl  of 
roses  from  the  desk  and  held  them  at  arm's  length 
as  she  left  the  room.  "  Mr.  Van  Tuyl  will  put 
you  in  your  carriage  whenever  you're  ready. 
Good-by,  Madame.  I  wish  you  a  pleasant  voy- 
age!" 

"  Vhat  for-r  she  go  avay  so  queeck?"  asked 
Rita  in  wonderment  at  her  repulse. 

"  I  asked  her  to.  Come  here !  "  said  Van 
Tuyl. 

She  looked  at  him  and  smiled. 

"  You  little  monkey,  you  1  "  and  he  smiled  too. 


2io  ROMANCE 

"  Now  pretend  for  five  minutes  I'm  your  father 
confessor  I  " 

"You  vant  to  sco-old  me  —  ye-es?" 

Van  Tuyl  took  her  gently  by  the  shoulders. 

"  Well,  that  depends.  Has  Tom  asked  you  to 
marry  him  ?  " 

"  No." 

"And  if  he  did?" 

Rita  turned  her  head  away  and  spoke  with  sulky 
defiance. 

"  I  vould  not  marr-ee  Mm  —  an  Amer'can  cler- 
gee-man  — 'e  vould  vant  I  stop  sing-ing  —  an'  be 
so  fr-r-rightful  goo-ood  —  an'  live  'ere  in  dis  'orri- 
ble  New  Yor-r-rk  —  mos'  col'  diz-a-gree-a-ble 
place  I  evair  see!  Adelina,  in  two,  t'ree  mont's 
she  die  —  ye-es !  And  'e  vould  not  let  me  go  to 
Paris  vhen  I  need  de  dress  —  an'  I  vould  be  all 
bor-red  an'  seed-  Mebbe  I  die  —  too  —  an'  den 
—  every  vone  is  gla-ad !  "  She  dried  her  eyes 
resolutely  with  her  handkerchief.  "  Oh,  no,  my 
frien',  I  vould  not  marr-ee  'im.  No  —  no  —  dat 
vould  be  vone  beeg  meestake !  " 

"  Then  why  do  you  lead  the  poor  boy  on?  " 

"Lead'im?" 


THE  OLD  YEAR  GOES  OUT      211 

"  He's  not  like  the  young  gentlemen  you're  ac- 
customed to  have  circling  round  you  —  remember 
that,  my  dear!  He's  not  a  Baron  Vigier  or  a 
Capt.  Ponsonby — " 

"  But  no,  my  f  rien* —  but  no  I  — " 

"  Well,  isn't  that  the  way  you're  treating 
him?"  interrupted  Van  Tuyl.  "Aren't  you 
amusing  yourself  —  just  a  little  bit  at  his  ex- 
pense?" 

"  No  —  you  do  not  on'erstan* —  ah  1  It  is  so 
'ar-r-rd  to  say !  Now  leesten  1  "  She  spoke  very 
seriously.  "  'Ow  long  I  know  'im  ?  Two 
mont's?  Ver'  veil.  In  all  dat  time  'e  'as  not 
spik  to  me  a  vor-r-rd  of  lo-ove  —  no,  not  vone 
leetle  vor-r-rd !  " 

"  What!  "  said  Van  Tuyl,  amazed. 

"  At  fir-r-rst  I  try  to  make  'im  —  oh,  you 
know  —  f or-r  fun  1  An1  den  —  ome'ow  —  I  am 
so  sorr-ee  for-r  'im  —  an'  I  don'  tr-r-y  any 
mor-re ! " 

f  She  sat  down  on  a  hassock  at  his  feet  and  leaned 
against  his  knees.  Van  Tuyl  put  his  hand  on  her 
shoulder. 

"  My  poor   little    Rita !  "   he   said,    tenderly. 


212  ROMANCE 

"  Don't  you  know  there's  nothing  in  all  this,  dear, 
for  you?  " 

"  Oh,  yes!  "  with  a  sigh.  "  I've  so  often  say, 
*  Seelly  voman,  do  not  see  'im  vhen  'e  come  to- 
day. Jost  tell  de  gentleman  down-stair-r-r  you 
vant  to  sleep  an'  no-bod-ee  shall  vake  you  up !  *  " 

"Well,  why  didn't  you?" 

"I  say  no-bod-ee  —  like  dat!  No-bod-ee  in 
the  vor-r-rld,"  she  added  shamefacedly,  "  ex-cep' 
jost  Meestaire  Tom!  O  Dio,  come  e  dura  la 
vita  I  "  she  sighed. 

"  So  that's  the  way  it  went !  "  said  Van  Tuyl. 

She  glanced  up  at  him,  inquisitively. 

"  I  t'ink  you  smile  a  leetle  —  yes?  " 

"  No,  I'm  not  smiling,  dear,"  said  Van  Tuyl, 
kindly. 

There  was  a  short  pause.  La  Cavallini  gave 
a  sigh. 

"  Ah,  my  frien',  I  am  vone  gr-r-reat  beeg  fool 
—  I  —  who  'ave  believe  I  vas  so  vise !  "  She 
smiled  at  him  and  shook  her  head. 

"  Never  mind,  my  dear,"  said  Van  Tuyl. 
"  You're  leaving  us  to-morrow." 

Rita  glanced  up  quickly. 


THE  OLD  YEAR  GOES  OUT      213 

"  You  t'ink  'e  vill  f or-r-get  me  —  ye-es  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  you  hope  he  will." 

Rita  looked  away. 

"  I  t'ink  I  vill  not  for-get  'im  —  or  if  I  do  — 
it  take  a  long,  long  time !  " 

"  Ssh !  Nonsense !  Now  think  of  all  that's 
waiting  for  you  over  there !  Rome  —  and  the 
spring  in  Florence  —  and  Como,  with  the  snow 
still  on  the  mountains  —  and  Paris  too  —  why, 
you'll  see  the  first  acacias  on  the  Boulevard  St. 
Germain  —  you'll  smell  the  lilacs  when  you're 
driving  in  the  Bois  —  and  Gounod  will  be  there 
—  and  your  dear  old  friend  Rossini !  Think  of 
the  dinners  at  the  Maison  Doree  —  and  the  violets 
in  the  forest  of  Compiegne!  Think  of  the  sup- 
pers Cora  Pearl  will  give !  Why,  don't  you  know 
what  fun  you're  going  to  have?  " 

Rita  shook  her  head  despondently. 

"  Oh,  dere  is  on-lee  vone  t'ing  dat  I  know!  " 

"What's  that?" 

"  I  lo-ove  'im !  "  she  cried,  passionately.  "  I 
lo-ove  'im  I  " 

"  You're  going  to  make  him  suffer  a  great 
deal,"  said  Van  Tuyl,  warningly. 


214  ROMANCE 

Rita  unpinned  a  bunch  of  white  violets  from 
her  wrap. 

"  Vhen  'e  ask  for-r  me  —  jost  give  him  dese 

—  an*  say  it  is  —  adieu."     She  kissed  the  vio- 
lets and  held  them  to  her  face  in  a  sort  of  pro- 
longed caress. 

The  door  opened  suddenly.     Tom  burst  in. 

"  Well,  did  you  think  I  was  never  — •"  His 
face  flushed  as  he  saw  Van  Tuyl.  "  Oh,  is  that 
you,  sir  ?  How  do  you  do  ?  " 

They  shook  hands. 

"  I'm  glad  Madame  Cavallini  hasn't  been  wait- 
ing here  alone !  Whew  1  It's  cold  outside !  "  said 
Tom,  pulling  off  his  gloves.  "  I'm  nearly  frozen 
and  I  ran  home,  too!  I'll  just  put  some  more 
coal  on  the  fire  and  then  we'll  all  sit  down  and  — " 

"  I  think,  Tom,  Madame  Cavallini  was  just  go- 
ing," said  Van  Tuyl. 

"  Going?  "  echoed  Tom,  astonished. 

"  Ye-es,  I  mus'  sleep  a  leetle  befor-re  to-night 

—  my  las'  per-rfor-r-mance  —  I  so  vant  to  give 
my  bes'— " 

Rita  moved  slowly  toward  the  door. 

"  Oh,  come  now,  you're  not  going  1  "  said  Tom, 


THE  OLD  YEAR  GOES  OUT      215 

taking  her  hand  and  leading  her  toward  her  chair 
again. 

"  Please  Meestaire  Tom,  de  per-r-for-r-r- 
mance  — "  faltered  Rita. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right  —  it's  Mignon,  and  you 
know  it  backward !  "  Tom  said  as  he  drew  her  to 
the  fire. 

"  You  see !  "  she  exclaimed,  turning  helplessly 
to  Van  Tuyl. 

Roger,  the  man  servant,  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  Miss  Armstrong's  compliments,  Mr.  Van 
Tuyl,  and  tea  is  served  in  the  sitting-room  up- 
stairs." 

"  We'll  come  up  later !  "  said  Tom,  quickly. 

Van  Tuyl  looked  at  Rita.  Rita  turned  appeal- 
ingly  to  Van  Tuyl. 

"  In  jost  vone  leetle  vhile!"  she  said,  implor- 
ing his  consent  with  her  eyes. 

Van  Tuyl  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  passed 
out  of  the  room.  As  the  door  closed  behind  him 
Tom  gave  one  great  "  Ah !  "  of  satisfaction  and 
moved  instinctively  toward  Rita's  side. 


CHAPTER  V 

"  I  know  that  I  have  but  the  body  of  a  weak  and  feeble 
woman;  but  1  have  the  heart  of  a  king,  and  of  a  King  of 
England  too" —  Queen  Elizabeth. 

Perdition  catch  my  soul, 

But  I  do  love  thee!  and  when  I  love  thee  not, 

Chaos  is  come  again. 

r    Shakespeare. 

TOM    ARMSTRONG    FINDS    THAT    LITTLE    MINUTE 
THAT  WE    CALL  TO-DAY 

"THERE!     Now  isn't  this  fine?     I  tell  you  it's 
like  a  dream." 

Tom  drew  a  long  breath  again  and  gazed  at 
her  triumphantly. 

"  Vhat  dr-r-ream  —  please  ?  " 

"  You  —  here  is  my  big  armchair  in  front  of 
my  fire  —  in  my  study." 

"  A  d-r-r-ream  —  ah,  dat  is  vhat  I  am !  "  said 
Rita,  wistfully.  "  A  leetle  dr-r-ream  dat  lose  'er 
way  an'  rest  vone  meenute  in  your  sleep-ing 
'ear-r-tl" 

216 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  217 

"  One  minute?     Always !  " 

"  Ah,  no,  my  frien' —  to-morrow  you  vake  up 
—  an'  pouf!  Dat  leetle  dr-r-ream  —  she  is  all 
gone!" 

She  smiled  and  snapped  her  fingers. 

"Please  don't!" 

"  You  'ave  been  'appee  den  —  dese  las'  veeks 
- — ye-es?  "  she  asked  softly. 

Tom  looked  her  squarely  in  the  eyes.  *  You 
know  I  have,"  he  said. 

"  I  'ave  been  'app-ee  —  too !  "  she  whis- 
pered. 

"  I  say,  don't  go  to-morrow,  Rita,"  cried  Tom, 
impulsively. 

"  Vhat  you  say?" 

"  Stay  on  till  spring,"  he  went  on. 

"  But  'ave  I  not  tell  you  I  mus'  sing  in  R-r-rome 
nex'  mont'  ?  An'  I  go  to  Venice  for  de  new  opera, 
'  Ai'da,'  Verdi  'ave  compose  — " 

"Don't  go.     Oh,  please  don't  go!" 

"An'  den  I  mus'  see  Mapleson  in  London  — 
an'  de  R-r-russian  concert  tour  begin  in  May. 
And  dere  in  Petersburg  Moussorgsky  'e  'ave  com- 
pose an  opera  for  me  too  — '  Boris  Godunuff,'  'e 


2i  8  ROMANCE 

call  it.     And  poor  Arrigo  Boito — 'e  'as  for  me 
1  Mephistofele  '— " 

"  I  don't  care  how  many  operas  they've  got  for 
you.  I  just  can't  say  good-by." 

Rita's  face  became  suddenly  illumined. 

"  Den  come  wid  me !  "  she  cried. 

"What—?" 

"  Go  queeck  an'  buy  de  ticket !  "  cried  Rita, 
becoming  practical  at  once. 

"  Ticket?  "  exclaimed  Tom. 

"  Ye-es  —  befor-re  dey  are  all  gone  I  "  she 
cried,  carried  away  by  her  own  enthusiasm.  "  An' 
to-morrow  ve  stan'  on  de  boat  —  you  an'  me  an' 
Adelina  —  an'  ve  vave  de  'an'kerchief  an'  trow 
de  kiss  an'  laugh.  Oh,  my  Lor-rd,  'ow  ve  laugh 
at  all  de  stup-eed  peoples  ve  leave  behin' !  Hein? 
Vhat  you  t'ink  of  dat?" 

"  I  think  it's  a  wonderful  idea,"  said  Tom. 
"  But  I've  got  a  meeting  of  the  board  of  charities 
to-morrow  at  eleven,  Patrick  Crowley's  funeral 
at  twelve,  and  after  dinner  I  offer  my  annual  re- 
port to  the  vestry  committee,  and  in  the  evening 
my  boys  — " 

Rita  gave  a  gesture  of  despair. 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  219 

"  I  'ave  for-r-get,"  she  cried,  "  you  are  a  clerg- 


er-man !  " 


"  And  I  forgot  you  were  a  golden  nightingale." 
After  a  short  pause  Rita  nodded  her  head  re- 
flectively. 

"  I  t'ink  it  is  a  vary  good  t'ing  I  go  avay  to- 


morrow." 


Tom  looked  a  picture  of  gloom. 

"  But  you're  coming  back  next  year?  " 

La  Cavallini  made  an  impatient  gesture. 

"Ah,  vy  talk  about  nex'  year  —  it  is  so  far 
avay." 

"  In  my  profession  one  has  to  think  a  great  deal 
about  things  that  are  far  away." 

"  Den  you  are  vary  fo-olish  —  yes,  you  are. 
Leesten,  I  am  ol'  an'  I  know  de  vorl-ld.  Do  vhat 
I  tell  you  now.  You  mus'  r-r-remembair  al- 
vays  — " 

"Well?" 

"  Yesterday,"  she  said,  tenderly.  "  It  is  a 
dr-r-ream  ve  'ave  forget.  To-morrow  —  just  de 
'ope  of  some  gr-r-reat  'appiness  —  some  joy  dat 
nevair  come.  Before,  behin'  all  clouds  an' 
star-r-rs  an'  shadow  —  nodings,  nodings  dat  is 


220  ROMANCE 

r-r-real,  onlee  de  leetle  minute  dat  we  call  to-day." 

"  To-day's  so  short."     Tom's  voice  was  bitter. 

Rita  smiled  at  him  in  a  superior  sort  of  way  as 
though  she  were  his  senior  by  many  years. 

"  Ah,  you  are  young,  my  frien'.  Jus'  twenty- 
eight,  you  say.  De  time  will  come  vhen  you  are 
glad  to  'ave  leetle  meenute  —  so  gla-ad  you  vould 
not  t'ink  to  ask  for-r  mor-r-re." 

Tom  was  beside  himself. 

"  Madame  Cavallini  —  Margherita  —  I  — " 

Rita  shrank  away  from  him  nervously. 

"No  — no!" 

A  hand  organ  outside  the  window  began  to 
grind  out  "  II  Bacio." 

"  Drat  that  hurdygurdy!  "  cried  Tom. 

"  I  t'ink  it  come  jost  in  time  I  "  said  Rita,  with 
a  sly  smile. 

Tom  goes  over  to  the  window  and  looks  out. 
Meanwhile,  she  danced  lightly  and  gayly  about 
the  room  whistling  and  snapping  her  fingers  in 
time  with  the  waltz,  while  Tom  gazed  angrily  out 
of  the  open  window. 

"Hi!"  cried  Tom.     "Go  away." 

The  waltz  continued. 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  221 

"  Hi  —  you  there !  Stop  that  racket !  Stop 
it  this  minute !  " 

The  waltz  broke  off  in  the  middle  of  a  phrase. 

"  Take  that  monkey  off  my  gate !  "  cried  Tom, 
spluttering  with  rage. 

At  the  word  monkey,  Rita  rushed  to  the  win- 
dow. 

uMon-kee?     Bon  giorno,  amico!" 

And  she  broke  into  a  wild  storm  of  Italian 
phrases  while  Tom  stood  bored  and  disgusted. 

She  tripped  gayly  about  the  room,  whistling 
and  keeping  time  to  the  music. 

"  Hi,  there !  "  cried  Tom  at  the  open  window 
to  the  organ  grinder  in  the  street.  "  Take  that 
monkey  off  my  gate  post !  " 

"Monkee?"  cried  Rita,  picking  up  Adelina 
from  the  chain  and  hastening  with  her  to  the  win- 
dow. 

"  Bon  giorno  amico ! "  she  cried,  holding 
Adelina  aloft  for  the  organ  grinder  to  see.  She 
and  the  hurdygurdy  man  began  to  exchange  com- 
pliments. In  a  moment  she  had  possessed  herself 
of  the  most  important  facts  in  both  his  and  the 
monkey's  family  history. 


222  ROMANCE 

"  'Ow  funnee !  "  she  cried,  turning  to  Tom. 

"  'Ees  name  it  is  Tomasso.  You  and  de  mon- 
kee  'ave  the  same  name." 

"  Tell  him  to  go  away,"  ordered  Tom,  angrily, 
as  he  threw  a  quarter  to  the  man.  "  Tell  him  to 
go  away  at  once." 

As  Rita  closed  the  window,  Tom  said,  coldly, 
"  You  talk  to  that  man  as  if  you  had  known  him 
all  your  life." 

"Ah!  veil,"  cried  Rita,  shrugging  her  shoul- 
ders. "  Vy  not?  Ve  hot'  maka  de  music." 

Her  eyes  fell  on  a  daguerreotype  lying  upon 
Tom's  desk.  "Who  is  dot  young  lady?"  she 
asked. 

"  That's  my  mother,"  said  Tom. 

"You  let  me  look  at  'er  —  ye-es?" 

"  Of  course." 

She  took  up  the  picture  very  tenderly  and  stud- 
ied it.  Rita's  whole  face  softened. 

"  Oh!  she  is  bee-eau-ti-full !  " 

"  That  was  taken  before  she  was  married," 
said  Tom,  looking  at  the  picture  over  her  shoul- 
der. "  My  father  always  had  it  on  his  dressing 
table." 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  223 

"I  t'ink  — you  look  like  'er." 

"  She  died  when  I  was  fifteen.  It  was  my  first 
winter  at  the  boarding  school.  She'd  come  up 
to  see  me  only  two  weeks  before  and  brought  me 
this  " —  picking  up  a  small,  worn  book  from  the 
desk  — "  my  little  Testament.  I'd  expected  a 
fruit  cake  —  you  can  imagine  how  I  felt.  But 
now  —  there's  nothing  else  I  value  quite  so 
much." 

Rita  was  still  studying  his  picture. 

"  She  look  —  like  she  'old  somet'ing  in  'er  'eart 
—  somet'ing  dat  make  'er  'app-ee  —  an'  dat  no 
vone  know,"  she  whispered.  "  Per'aps  —  per- 
'aps  it  is  de  t' ought  dat  vone  day  she  'ave  a  son 
like  you  — " 

Tom  crossed  his  room  and  opening  a  drawer 
in  the  little  cabinet  began  fumbling  for  something 
in  a  box.  While  his  back  was  turned  to  her,  Rita 
kissed  the  daguerreotype  reverentially  and  laid  it 
down. 

"  For-r-give  — "  she  said  to  the  picture  as  she 
laid  it  on  the  table. 

"  There's  something  here  I've  been  meaning  to 
show  you,"  he  said.  "  I  keep  it  in  this  box  with 


224  ROMANCE 

my  mother's  little  souvenirs."  He  took  out  a 
small  package  done  up  carefully  in  tissue  paper. 
As  he  did  so,  a  tiny  little  shoe  m  the  box  brushed 
against  his  hand.  He  laid  it  on  the  table  and  was 
about  to  read  the  contents  of  the  package  when 
Rita  picked  up  the  little  shoe.  There  was  a  card 
tied  to  it  with  some  words  written  upon  it.  Rita 
began  to  read  it  laboriously. 

"  First  shoe  worn  by  my  son,  Thomas  Arm- 
strong, June  seex,  eighteen  'undred  an* — " 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  said  Tom,  slightly  embarrassed. 
"  That's  my  first  shoe.  Let's  see !  I  must  have 
been  three  months  old." 

"  An'  she  'ave  keep  it  wit*  such  care  —  an' 
write  upon  it." 

La  Cavallini's  eyes  were  full  of  tears  as  she 
fondled  the  little  shoe. 

"  Oh,  she  did  that  because  she  was  very 
sentimental,  I'm  afraid,"  half  apologized 
Tom. 

"  She  did  it  because  she  lo-ove  you  —  such  a 
much !  " 

"  Here's  what  I  really  wanted  to  show  you, 
though."  Tom  unwrapped  the  little  package  he 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  225 

had  been  holding  in  his  hand.     "  Now !     Look 
at  these !  " 

"  A  necklace  —  ear-r-rings !  " 

"They  were  father's  wedding  present!"  He 
held  up  a  necklace  made  of  seed  pearls  to  which 
was  attached  a  little  gold  locket  of  no  particular 
value.  "  There!  Isn't  that  pretty?  " 

"  Oh,  mos'  bee-auti-ful !  "  cried  Rita,  admir- 
ingly. 

"  There's  one  of  my  baby  pictures  in  the  locket. 
I  wonder  how  —  oh,  yes,  I  remember  —  you 
press  the  back  and  then  it  opens !  There !  " 

He  gave  her  the  opened  locket.  She  took  it 
eagerly,  looked  at  it,  glanced  at  him,  then  broke 
out  into  irrepressible  laughter. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  asked  Tom,  abruptly. 

"You  are  so  —  so  fat!" 

"Fat!"  frowned  Tom. 

'  You  'ave  such  beeg  cheek  —  just  like  dis  — " 
She  puffed  up  her  own  cheeks,  lost  her  breath  and 
started  laughing  again.  "  You  are  de  mos' 
funn-ee  baby  I  ever  see  in  all  my  life !  " 

"  Well,  my  nurse  didn't  think  so !  "  said  Tom, 
defending  himself. 


226  ROMANCE 

He  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  turned 
away. 

"Vhat  —  ?  Oh,  my  Lor-r-rd!"  cried  Rita, 
startled.  Then  she  began  to  laugh  again,  which 
only  increased  Tom's  rage. 

"  Oh,  very  well.  I'm  sorry  I  showed  it  to  you ! 
I  might  have  known  that — " 

"  Ah,  don'  be  ang-ree!  "  cried  Rita. 

11  I'm  not  angry,"  he  answered,  without  turning 
round. 

"So?  Den  von'  you  tur-r-rn  your  'ead  — 
please? 

"  I  go  avay  to  morr-r-row !  "  She  paused  and 
looked  at  his  back,  lovingly. 

"  Mebbe  I  nevair-r  come  back.  I  t'ink  you  are 
de  mos'  bee-auti-ful  bab-ee  in  de  whole  vor-r-rld !  " 

"No,  you  don't  either!  " 

"  Si  —  si !  "  It  is  tr-r-rue !  "  she  went  on  ea- 
gerly. Then  softly  to  the  picture: 

"So  good-by,  leetle  fat  boy  —  good-by  — 
good-by!  "  She  kissed  it  twice  and  laid  it  down. 

Tom  turned  just  in  time  to  see  her  kiss  his 
locket. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said. 


'OH,     DON'    BE    ANG-REE  !'     CRIED    RITA' 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  227 

Rita  shut  the  locket. 

"  Dat  vas  for-r  'im  —  my  frien' —  not  you  I  " 

She  held  out  the  necklace  for  him  to  take. 

"  Er  —  don't  you  want  to  keep  him  then?" 
asked  Tom,  awkwardly. 

"Keep  'im?" 

"  Yes,  and  the  necklace  too !  I  wish  —  I  mean 
I  hope  you  will !  " 

"  But  —  it  is  your-r  modder's  — " 

"I  know  —  that's  why!"  he  explained,  ea- 
gerly. 

"  But  she  vould  not  like  it  — " 

"  Of  course  I  realize  how  you  feel  about  ac- 
cepting presents  of  jewelry  from  men,  but  I  think 
in  this  case  —  it's  —  er  —  quite  all  right." 

Around  her  neck  was  a  magnificent  string  of 
pearls  from  which,  at  her  waist,  hung  a  diamond 
cross.  Instinctively  her  hand  went  to  her  neck  to 
unclasp  the  necklace. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  asked  Tom. 

"  I  make  for-r  it  de  place." 

She  dropped  her  string  of  pearls  upon  the 
desk. 

"Aha!    I  knew  you  would,"  cried  Tom,  giv- 


228  ROMANCE 

ing  her  the  rest  of  the  package.  "  Here!  Take 
the  earrings  too." 

"  Dio  mio,  dey  are  so  lo-ove-lee!"  said  Rita, 
enthusiastically,  as  she  laid  her  necklace  on  the 
mantelpiece. 

"  Can  you  see  to  put  them  on?  "  asked  Tom, 
solicitously. 

By  this  time  the  room  was  filled  with  twilight 
shadows.  The  fire,  warm  and  mellow,  was  the 
only  light. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can  see !  "  cried  Rita  at  the  mir- 
ror. 

Tom  watched  her  lovingly. 

"  You  know  how  it  clasps?  " 

"  Ye-es,  it  is  all  r-r-right.  Ecco !  Are  dey  not 
becoming?  Vhy  you  look  at  me  like  dat?  Vhat 
you  t'ink  of  —  hein?  " 

"  I  was  just  thinking,"  said  Tom,  simply,  "  how 
mother  would  have  loved  you." 

"Ye-es?" 

"  She  loved  everything  that  was  beautiful  and 
sweet  and  good.  And  then  your  music  —  that 
would  have  interested  her  so  much.  She  was 
musical  too,  you  know." 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  229 

"  Is  dat  so?  "  said  Rita,  intensely  interested. 

"Yes;  that's  why  I  kept  her  piano  when  the 
Worth  Street  house  was  sold.  I  put  it  over  there, 
so  when  I'm  writing  sermons  and  get  all  mixed  up 
I  can  just  look  at  it  and  imagine  I'm  eight  years 
old  again  and  hear  her  dear  voice  singing  *  Annie 
Laurie.'  " 

"  An-nie  Laur-r-ree?"  repeated  Rita,  softly. 

"  That  was  her  favorite  song,"  he  said.  "  I 
wish  —  I  wish  you'd  sing  it  once  —  before 
you  go." 

"  I  tell  you  vhat  —  I  play  an'  you  vill  sing." 

"  But  I  can't  —  I  haven't  any  voice  — " 

"  Come  —  where  is  it  —  in  dis  book'ook?  " 

She  picked  up  one  of  the  bound  volumes  of 
music  lying  on  the  piano. 

"  No  —  the  big  one  underneath  —  page  twenty- 
seven.  But  really,  it's  foolish;  the  idea  of  my 
trying  to." 

"  Ah,  here  it  is.  Now  light  de  candle,  please." 
She  put  the  volume  on  the  rack  and  seated  her- 
self at  the  piano. 

"  It  goes  up  to  E  —  that's  pretty  high,  you 
know.  Of  course  I  wouldn't  mind  if  you  weren't 


230  ROMANCE 

a  professional,"  he  said,  nervously,  as  he  took  his 
place  beside  her  at  the  piano.  "  Give  me  the  note 
when  you  come  to  it." 

Rita  played  the  little  prelude. 

"Is  dat  too  fas'?" 

"  A  little  bit.     That's  better." 

She  struck  his  note  and  paused  glancing  up  at 
him.  He  hesitated. 

"  Just  wait  till  I  clear  my  throat.  It's  so  long 
since  I've  sung.  Now  I'm  ready;  go  ahead." 

"  Maxwelton  braes  are  bonnie 
Where  early  fa's  the  dew. 
And  it's  there — " 

The  door  opened  and  Roger  appeared. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,  the  deaconesses  are  wait- 
ing." 

"  Get  rid  of  them  I  "  cried  Tom,  angrily,  with- 
out turning  around. 

"What,   sir?"   said  Roger,   aghast. 

"I  said,  'get  rid  of  'em!'" 

Roger  bowed  and  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

Tom  sang  "  Annie  Laurie  "  through  to  the  bit- 
ter end.  When  he  had  finished,  Rita,  without 
looking  up  at  him,  said  softly: 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  231 

"  It  is  a  song  of  lo-ove." 

"  Yes,  but  I  never  knew  it  until  now.  Do  you 
know  why?  " 

Tom  leaned  down  toward  her  eagerly. 

"No;  te-ell  me." 

"  Because  I  never  knew  what  love  was  until 
now." 

"  An'  vhat  is  lo-ove  —  to  you?  " 

She  played  a  little  idly  as  she  watched 
him. 

He  turned  and  leaned  on  the  piano  so  he  could 
see  her  face. 

"  It's  finding  the  woman  you  want  to  live  with 
all  your  life  —  the  woman  who'll  show  you  the 
right  way  and  follow  it  with  you  —  side  by  side 
—  shoulder  to  shoulder  —  making  all  the  good 
things  seem  a  little  better  —  and  all  the  hard 
things  —  well,  not  quite  so  hard !  It's  knowing 
she'll  be  with  you  at  your  journey's  end  —  when 
you're  old  —  and  she's  old  —  and  when  you  can 
smile  and  look  into  each  other's  eyes  and  say: 
'  We've  done  our  work  together,  dear  —  and  I 
think  we've  done  it  well ! ' 

Rita's  eyes  were  full  of  tears  as  she  answered: 


232  ROMANCE 

"  Oh,  my  f rien',  dat  lo-ove  —  it  is  for-r  some, 
ye-es,  but  it  is  not  for-r  me." 

"I  don't  understand — " 

"  For-r  me  love  is  jost  a  leetle  light  in  all  dis 
dar-rk-ness  —  a  leetle  varmt'  in  all  dis  col' —  a 
leet-tle  flame  dat  bur-r-rn  —  not  long  an'  den  go 
out.  A  star  dat  come  —  an'  is  so  bee-eau-ti-ful  it 
bre-eng  beeg  teers  an'  vhen  ve  dry  de  eyes  an' 
look  again  —  de  star  is  gone.  I  t'ink  it  is  to  be  a 
leedle  'appier  togeder  den  ve  are  apar-r-t  —  von 
meenute  to  lie  steell  in  de  beloved's  ar-r-rm  — 
vone  leetle  meenute  to  forget,  my  frien' —  an'  dat 
is  all!" 

Tom  gathered  her  into  his  arms  and  held  her 
tightly. 

"  My  dear,"  he  began,  brokenly.  But  Rita 
tried  to  free  herself  from  his  arms. 

"  Oh,  vhat  you  do?  "  she  cried  in  alarm. 

Tom  pressed  her  to  him. 

"I  love  you!" 

"  Don't." 

"  And  you  love  me.     Now  say  it,"  he  insisted. 

"  No,"  she  cried,  piteously. 

"  You  must,"  said  Tom,  through  his  shut  teeth. 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  233' 

"  All  r-r-right  —  I  lo-ove  you !  Now  ve  are 
alone  —  you  'ear  —  an'  dare  is  nodings  in  de 
vor-r-rld  but  you  an'  me  —  Dis  is  our  time  —  our 
leetle  meenute  dat  vill  nevaire  come  again  —  so 
shut  your  eyes  —  an'  'old  me  close  —  an' 
lo-ove  I  " 

She  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  in  complete 
abandon. 

"But,  dear,  I—" 
'  'Ush !  "  she  cried,  as  she  kissed  him. 

At  that  moment  from  the  parish  house  next 
door  came  the  sound  of  singing.  The  choir  boys 
were  practicing  the  hymns  for  the  New  Year's 
service.  They  were  singing  "  The  Church's  One 
Foundation  "  and  each  line  of  it  could  be  heard 
distinctly. 

"  The  Church's  one  foundation, 

Is  Jesus  Christ,  her  Lord. 
She  .is  His  new  creation 

By  water  and  the  Word. 
From  heaven  He  came  and  sought  her 

To  be  His  Holy  Bride; 
With  His  own  Blood  He  bought  her, 

And  for  her  life  He  died." 

Rita  was  the  first  to  speak. 


234  ROMANCE 

"  Vhat  is  dat?  "  she  asked. 

"It's  just  the  choir;  they're  practicing  for  to- 
night. I  love  you.  When  will  you  marry  me  ?  r' 

She  slowly  disengaged  herself  from  him  and 
turned  away. 

"  I  'ave  not  t'ink  de  en'  vould  be  so  soon !  " 
she  whispered,  half  to  herself. 

;<  When —  please  tell  me  when?"  he  cried, 
eagerly. 

"  Ask  me  anodder  time  —  no,  nevair  ask  me ; 
it  is  jost  not  possible,"  said  Rita,  as  she  wiped  her 
eyes. 

"  But  what's  the  matter?     I  don't  understand." 

"  Vhy  you  in  such  a  'urr-ee?  You  mus'  vait," 
she  went  on  in  a  more  matter  of  fact  tone. 

"  I'd  wait  forever  —  if  there's  any  hope." 

Rita  moved  away  from  him. 

"  Please  don'  come  near  — " 

"There  is  hope,  isn't  there?" 

"No  —  no;  I  'ave  made  vone  beeg  mistake." 

"What—" 

"  I  t'ink  I  'ave  been  mad  for  jost  vone  leetle 
vhile,  but  now  —  I  cannot  marr-ee  you.  Good- 
by." 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  235 

She  started  for  the  door,  but  he  stopped 
her. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Oh,  let  me  go !  "  she  cried. 

"  Not  till  you've  told  me  why.1* 

"  Can  you  not  see  vhat  is  so  plain  an*  clear? 
Your  frien's  —  dey  know  —  De  night  I  meet 
you,  you  'ave  see  de  young  men  look  at  me  — " 

"  Rita !  "  Tom  stood,  paralyzed  with  a  sudden 
suspicion. 

"  Dey  know  vy  1  can  nevaire  marr-ee  you  — 
de  whole  vor-r-rld  know — " 

Her  voice  softened  and  she  smiled  a  little. 
"  An'  now  I  t'ink  if  you  don'  min'  I  go  avay." 

"  No,  my  dear  —  not  yet,"  said  Tom,  very  ten- 
derly. 

He  led  her  to  the  settee  by  the  fire. 

"  I  think  —  I  think  you  have  something  to  tell 


me." 


"  I  cannot  —  no  —  please  do  not  ask  — " 
"  I'm  not  going  to  ask  —  I'm  just  going  to  sit 
here  and  hold  your  hand  and  listen." 
He  takes  her  hand. 
"  That's  what  I'm  here  for,  you  know  —  just 


236  ROMANCE 

to  help  people  when  they're  in  trouble  and  need 
a  friend." 

"  You  are  so  goo-od !  "  said  Rita,  shaking  her 
head. 

"  No.  I'm  not  —  but  you'll  find  I'm  very 
sympathetic.  Why,  I  remember  one  day  last 
week  —  Tuesday  it  was  —  that  a  little  tenement 
girl  named  McDougal,  came  in  to  see  me.  We 
sat  here  just  as  we're  sitting  now  and  after  a  while 
she  told  me  all  about  it.  She  was  going  to  be 
married  the  next  day  to  a  young  carpenter  over 
on  Eighth  street,  but  there  was  something  she 
hadn't  told  him  —  poor  child !  She  didn't  dare ! 
She'd  been  —  treated  badly  by  some  brute  of  a 
man  when  she  was  only  sixteen  years  old.  Of 
course  he'd  left  her  —  and  she'd  tried  to  put  to- 
gether the  pieces  of  her  life  and  go  on  with  her 
work  —  and  then  she  met  the  carpenter  and  fell 
in  love  and  was  going  to  marry  him  —  and  at  the 
last  moment  her  conscience  began  bothering  her 
—  so  she  came  to  me." 

"An'—  vhat  did  you  tell  'er?  " 

"Oh,  I  didn't  say  much!  I  just  suggested 
things  here  and  there.  And  in  the  end,  God 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  237 

bless  her!  she  made  up  her  mind  to  do  the  right 
thing!" 

"De  r-r-right— " 

"  She  went  home  and  told  him  all  about  it." 

"  An'  den  — " 

"  Oh !  "  went  on  Tom,  cheerfully,  "  he  was  a 
decent  sort  of  fellow  and  he  loved  her  —  so  of 
course  he  understood  —  and  —  well  I  married 
them  Wednesday  morning  and  now  they're  two 
of  the  happiest  people  in  New  York!  " 

"  An'  vould  you  feel  dat  vay,  too?  " 

"Me?" 

"  If  someone  dat  you  lo-ove  —  No,  don't  look 
at  me !  —  If  somevone  dat  you  lo-ove  come  an* 
say,  '  I  am  not  goo-ood  —  I  must  tell  you  now  be- 
cause ve  lo-ove  each  oder!  You  are  de  fir-r-rst 
man  I  'ave  ever  lo-ove  —  you  are  de  fir-r-rst  man 
I  'ave  ever  toP ! '  " 

"Well?" 

"  Could  you  forgive  'er,  Meestaire  Tom?" 
c  You  poor  little  child !  "  said  Tom,  brokenly, 
as  he  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"  No,  no !  "  she  cried  despairingly,  "  you  do  not 
onderstan' —  it  is  I  who  am  not  goo-ood." 


238  ROMANCE 

"  There,  darling,  there !  Don't  cry,  it's  all 
right,  you've  been  fair  and  brave  and  honest, 
you've  told  me  and  I  forgive  you  from  the  bottom 
of  my  heart!  " 

"  Oh !  Oh  I  I  do  not  see  'ow  it  is  possible ! 
no  I  do  not  see  —  I  don't,  I  don't!  "  she  sobbed. 

"Why  not?  It  was  a  long  time  ago,  wasn't 
it?  When  you  were  poor  and  struggling  and 
lonely,  you  didn't  know  anything  about  the  world 
—  how  could  you?  And  you  had  to  live." 

"Yes!  oh,  yes!" 

"  But  you  mustn't  think  of  it  any  more !  You 
must  just  remember  how  afterward  you  pulled 
yourself  together  and  raised  your  head  and  said 
to  yourself,  '  I  have  sinned,  but  that's  all  over, 
and  from  now  on,  I'm  going  to  be  a  good  woman  I 
I'm  going  to  turn  the  rest  of  my  life  into  a  splen- 
did, beautiful  thing!  I  won't  stop  until  I  can  be 
proud  of  myself!'  And  oh,  my  dear,  I'm  so 
glad,  I'm  so  glad  that  you  can  be  —  now !  " 

"An'  is  dat  vhy  you  can  for-give  me?" 

"  Is  what,  dear?  "  he  asked,  not  understanding 
her. 

"  Because  it  'appen'  so  long  ago?  " 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  239 

Just  for  an  instant  there  was  a  touch  of  Tom's 
pulpit  manner  as  he  said: 

"  I  naturally  believe  that  all  sins,  finished  and 
truly  repented  of,  should  be  forgiven  by  every 
Christian  man  or  woman." 

"  I  see  —  I  see,"  she  sighed,  and  rising  she 
walked  away  from  him. 

Tom  was  a  boy  again  in  a  moment;  all  trace 
of  the  priest  was  gone. 

"  And  now  that  everything's  cleared  up  be- 
tween us,  do  you  know  what  we're  going  to 
do?" 

"Do?    Tell  me." 

"  Go  right  upstairs,  of  course,  and  announce 
our  engagement  to  Aunt  Emma  and  Mr.  Van 
Tuyl.  Come  on !  "  he  laughed.  "  Come  on  I  " 

"  No  —  no  —  not  now." 

"  What?  " 

"  Vait  a  leetle,"  she  said,  wheedlingly,  "  vait 
until  to-morr-row." 

"  But  you're  sailing  to-morrow!  " 

"Ye-es  —  dat  is  vhy— " 

"  Nonsense !  If  you  don't  look  out  I'll  begin 
to  think  you're  ashamed  of  me.  Come  along! '' 


24o  ROMANCE 

He  put  his  arm  about  her  waist  and  started  to- 
ward the  door.  Rita  freed  herself. 

"  No.  I  say  —  it  is  too  soon  —  I  am  not 
r-r-ready  —  ve  mus'  vait." 

"Wait?     What  for?" 

"  Mebbe  —  mebbe  dey  do  not  like  it  vhen  ve 
telldem!" 

"  Now  don't  you  bother  about  Aunt  Elizabeth. 
She's—" 

"  Ah,  no  I  I  do  not  bodder  about  'er ! 
But—" 

She  stopped  abruptly.  Tom  gave  her  a  ques- 
tioning look. 

"  It  surely  isn't  Mr.  Van  Tuyl  that's  worrying 
you?  Why,  he's  my  oldest  friend  —  and  fath- 
er's and  mother's  too.  He's  just  like  one  of  the 
family.  Of  course  we  must  tell  him  right  off !  " 

"  Vhy  von't  you  let  me  tell  'im?  "  she  suggested. 

"What?" 

"  To-night  —  vhen  I  can  see  'im  all  alone ! 
Oh,  please  —  please  let  me  tell  'im,"  she  cried. 
Tom  was  puzzled.  There  was  a  pucker  in  his 
brow. 

"  But  why?     What's  the  matter?  " 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  241 

"  If  ve  tell  'im  now,  'e  vill  be  so  angr-ee !  " 

"  Nonsense !  And  even  if  he  is,  we  don't 
care!" 

"  'E  vill  say  t'ings  about  me  —  oh,  yes,  'e  vill  I  " 

"  But  he  doesn't  know  anything  about  you !  " 

Rita  did  not  reply. 

"  Rita,  he  doesn't  know  anything  about  you, 
does  he?" 

"  No  —  I  mean  —  not  ver'  much  1  " 

"What—" 

"  Jost  a  leetle  —  I  tell  'im  a  leetle  vone  night 
in  Paris—" 

"You  don't  mean  —  what  you've  told  me?" 
'  Yes,  an'  so  if  ve  go  upstairs  now  an' — " 

"  But  you  said  just  a  minute  ago  that  I  was  the 
only  man  you'd  ever  told  —  because  I  was  the 
only  man  you'd  ever  loved." 

Rita  looked  frightened,  bewildered. 

"  I  'ave  forget  —  oh,  it  vas  two  —  t'ree  years 
ago—" 

Tom  began  to  think. 

"  But  wait !  He  talked  to  me  very  openly 
about  you  —  why,  only  last  Saturday  when  I  went 
to  see  him  about  the  new  gymnasium  — " 


242  ROMANCE 

"Vhat—  " 

"  He  used  every  possible  argument  —  except 
that  one.  Why  he  never  said  so  much  as  a  word 
against  — " 

"  I  know,"  she  answered  calmly,  "I  —  I  ask  'im 
not  to." 

"  You  ?  But  —  but  he  wouldn't  take  your  side 
where  I'm  involved  —  why,  it's  incredible !  " 

11  Oh,  ye-es,  'e  vould  —  you  do  not  know !  " 

"But  why—" 

"Vhy?"  echoed  Rita,  fighting  for  time. 

"  Yes  —  there  must  be  a  reason." 

"  Can  you  not  guess?  " 

"  No.     Tell  me  — " 

"  It  is  because  —  oh,  long  ago,  you  on'erstan' 
— 'e  vas  foolish  enough  to  like  me  —  jost  a  lee- 
tie—" 

"What—" 

"  It  vas  not  my  fault,"  she  went  on  quickly,  "  I 
cannot  'elp  it  vhen  peoples  — " 

"When  was  this?"  he  asked  sternly. 

"  Oh,  two  —  t'ree  —  year  ago !  I  did  my  bes* 
t'  stop  'im  —  it  vas  not  easy  —  I  tell  you  dat  1  " 

"  Did  he  want  you  to  marry  him?  " 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  243 

She  was  trying  to  speak  lightly. 

"  No  —  no  —  it  vas  noddings  —  noddings  at 
all  — 'e  jost  like  to  sen'  me  flowers  an'  'ear  .  .  ." 

"How  long  did  his  —  attentions  last?" 

"I  — I  dunno." 

Tom  took  a  step  toward  her. 

"  You  mean  he's  in  love  with  you  still?  " 

She  turned  to  him  with  sudden  abandon. 

"  Oh,  don'  talk  about  dat  any  more !  Jost  take 
me  in  your  arms  an'  keess  me  till  — " 

Tom's  eyes  were  flashing. 

"  And  you  knew  he  felt  that  way  —  you  knew 
it  all  this  time?" 

"Yes,  I  knew—" 

"  Then  why  didn't  you  tell  me?  " 

"  I  did  not  t'ink  you  vould  —  like  it." 

"Like  it!  Why,  it  was  all  right.  He  can't 
help  loving  you,  I  suppose.  There  isn't  anything 
to  conceal  " —  he  stopped  suddenly  — "  Rita,  there 
isn't  anything  to  conceal  ?  " 

"Vhat?" 

"Tell  me  there  isn't  — tell  me—" 

"  I  don'  know  vhat  you  mean  — " 

"  Quick,  for  the  love  of  God !  "  cried  Tom. 


244  ROMANCE 

She  put  her  hands  before  her  face. 

"  Don'  look  at  me,"  she  cried. 

"  Not  Mr.  Van  Tuyl?     Not  he?  " 

"  Please  —  oh,  please  — " 

Rita  was  terror  stricken. 

Tom  gave  a  cry  of  anger.  He  clenched  his 
teeth. 

"  It  is  not  true,"  she  cried,  frantically.  "  I  say 
it  is  not  true." 

"What?" 

"  Dere  'as  been  noddings  —  you  make  vone  ter- 
rible meestake." 

"  How  do  I  know?  "  he  asked,  coldly. 

Tom  was  a  skeptic  now. 

"  I  tell  you  —  I,"  she  went  on,  beating  her 
breast. 

"  But  you  kept  back  something  before.'* 

"  No." 

"  How  do  I  know  you're  not  doing  it  again?  " 

"No  —  I  am  not!     I  tell  you  I  am  not!" 

Tom  pulled  himself  together. 

"  Ssh  —  be  quiet!  They'll  hear  you  upstairs." 
His  voice  was  shaking.  "  Now  we  must  be  calm, 
both  of  us  —  quite  calm  and  sensible.  We  must 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  245 

settle  this  matter  here  once  and  for  all.  If  it's 
true,  I  beg  you  —  for  both  our  sakes  —  as  you 
will  answer  on  the  day  of  judgment  —  I  beg  you 
to  tell  me  now !  " 

"  If  I  say  *  Yes,  it  is  true ! '  would  you  —  would 
you  again  forgive  me?  " 

"Ah!  —  then  it  is  —  it  is — "  he  cried. 

"No!  no!" 

"  You've  said  so.     I  heard  you  say  it." 

"  Dat  is  not  so !  " 

"Well,  didn't  you?" 

"  No !  —  no !  —  no !  "  she  cried,  passion- 
ately. 

"  Will  you  swear  it?  " 

«  Ye-es  —  I  vill  swear." 

He  picked  up  a  small  book  from  the  table  and 
held  it  out  to  her. 

"  Put  your  hand  here  —  on  my  mother's  Testa- 
ment." 

"So?"  said  Rita,  obeying  him. 

"  And  look  me  in  the  eye  and  say  after  me  — " 

"Ye-es?" 

"  I  swear  there  has  been  nothing  wrong  be- 
tween Mr.  Van  Tuyl  and  me." 


ROMANCE 

Rita  gave  a  piteous  little  moan  and  closed  her 
eyes. 

"Oh,  Madonna— !" 

"  Swear  it!  "  cried  Tom,  in  a  shrill  voice. 

"  Vhat?  "     Rita  opened  her  eyes. 

"You  won't?" 

"I  swvar  dere  'as  been  —  vhat  you  say?  — 
nodding  wrong  betveen  —  Meestaire  Van  Tuyl 

—  an'  me." 

She  swayed  and  would  have  fallen,  but  Tom, 
with  a  sob  of  relief,  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Oh,  my  darling  —  forgive  me  —  I've  been  a 
brute  to  doubt  you,  I'm —  What's  the  matter? 
Rita  — Rita— !" 

Her  head  had  fallen  forward.  She  had 
fainted.  He  carried  her  over  to  the  settee,  laid 
her  on  it,  poured  out  a  glass  of  water  and  tried  to 
make  her  drink  it. 

"  My  poor  little  girl  —  there !     It's  all  right 

—  I'm  never  going  to  bother  you  again.     Forgive 
me  —  oh !  my  darling,  just  forgive  me  this  once. 
I  was  out  of  my  head.     I  didn't  know  what  I  was 
saying.     Please  —  please  — " 

Rita,  still  dazed,  sat  up. 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  247 

"What's  the  matter?  Aren't  you  going  to 
speak  to  me?  " 

She  rose  unsteadily  to  her  feet. 

"Rita!" 

He  took  her  hand,  but  she  snatched  it  away. 

"  I  van'  to  go  avay,"  she  cried.  "  You  don* 
believe  me  —  you  don'  lo-ove  me  — " 

"  Yes,  I  do  —  I  love  you  more  than  anything 
in  the  world.  I  love  you  and  I'm  going  to  marry 
you  — " 

She  turned  on  him  furiously.  Her  eyes  were 
blazing. 

"  Vhy  you  make  me  svear  dose  t'ings?  Vhy 
you  make  me  — " 

"  Forgive  me,  dear  —  please  — " 

11  Gooda-by." 

"No,  wait!" 

He  stopped  her  as  she  reached  the  door,  tak- 
ing hold  of  both  her  hands. 

"  I  say  —  gooda-by !  " 

He  stared  into  her  face.     Her  eyes  dropped. 

"  Oh,  let  me  go,  please !  I  mus*  r-r-re-tur-rn 
to  de  'otel  —  it  is  so  late  —  you  know  I  al-vays 
sleep  before  I  sing  an' — - 


248  ROMANCE 

"  Vhat  for  you  look  at  me  like  dat?  Let  go, 
I  say  —  let  go !  " 

"  I  believed  you  when  you  swore  just  now  —  I 
want  it  understood  that  I  believed  you — " 

"Veil?" 

"  So  —  if  you  don't  mind  —  I  think  —  I  think 
—  I'll  ask  Mr.  Van  Tuyl  to  come  down  here  — " 

"Vhat—  " 

"  And  then  we'll  tell  him  —  we're  engaged !  " 

"  Ah,  no  —  no  —  don't  do  dat,"  Rita  cried,  in 
sudden  fright,  "  vait  a  leetle  vhile  — " 

"  Not  a  minute !     Not  a  second !  " 

He  pulled  at  the  bell  rope  madly. 

"Please—" 

"I  won't!" 

"No  — no— " 

"Oh,  my  God— " 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in !  "  cried  Tom,  trying  to  control  his 
voice. 

"You  rang,  sir?"  said  Roger. 

"  Yes.  Please  ask  Mr.  Van  Tuyl  to  step  down 
here.  Tell  him  I'll  keep  him  only  a  moment." 

"  Very  good,  sir." 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  249 

As  the  door  closed,  Rita  turned  on  Tom 
vehemently. 

"  Ver'  veil,  I  vill  not  stay." 

Tom  planted  himself  before  the  door. 

"You've  got  to!" 

"  Remembair  my  per-r-for-rmance,"  she 
pleaded. 

Tom  snapped  his  fingers  in  her  face. 

"  I  don't  give  that  for  your  performance." 

"  'E  come;  I  'ear  'im,"  she  cried,  in  desperation. 

"Oh,  let  me  go!" 

Tom  recoiled  as  though  someone  had  struck 
him  a  blow. 

"  Rita,  don't  tell  me  you're  afraid !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Oh,  let  me  see  'im  fir-r-rst,"  she  pleaded,  coax- 
ingly,  "  for  jost  vone  leetle  meenute;  it  vill  be  all 
r-r-right." 

"  I  won't,"  he  shouted,  all  his  suspicions  aroused 
again. 

Rita  shrugged  her  shoulders  and,  sitting  down 
at  the  piano,  began  to  play  a  Chopin  waltz. 

"Ver'  well.  I  don'  care;  I  'ave  done  my 
bes'." 


250  ROMANCE 

"  Ah !  "  said  Van  Tuyl,  genially.  "  Still  here? 
We  thought  you'd —  Why,  what's  the  matter, 
Tom?" 

Rita  stopped  playing.  She  stared  from  one 
man's  face  to  the  other. 

"  Nothing,  sir.  I  —  asked  you  to  come  down 
because  —  I  wanted  you  to  be  the  first  to  know  of 
my  good  luck,"  said  Tom,  trying  to  speak  calmly. 

"  Good  luck?  "  questioned  Van  Tuyl,  in  a  sur- 
prised tone. 

"  Yes.  Madame  Cavallini  has  been  good 
enough  to  —  we're  engaged." 

"Engaged?"  echoed  Van  Tuyl,  in  a  toneless 
voice. 

"Yes,  engaged  —  engaged  to  be  married,"  re- 
peated Tom,  harshly. 

"  My  dear  boy,  I  congratulate  you." 

Quite  calmly,  Van  Tuyl  held  out  his  hand. 

"What?"  cried  Tom,  almost  choking. 

"  I  congratulate  you,"  Van  Tuyl  went  on  se- 
renely. "  Madame  Cavallini  stands  alone,  as  I 
have  always  said.  And  while  I  confess  I  am  —  a 
bit  surprised,  I  am  flattered  " —  he  turned  to  Rita 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  251 

and  bowed  — "  that  she  has  chosen  one  of  my 
friends  and  countrymen  for  this  —  great  honor." 

"Then  it's  all  right?"  cried  Tom  in  delight. 
"You  approve  —  you  give  us  your  consent?  " 

Van  Tuyl  gave  a  broad  smile. 

"  Yes  —  for  the  parish,  I  mean  —  represented 
by  yourself  as  senior  warden  and  chairman  of  the 
vestry." 

"  Most  certainly,  my  dear  boy.  You  know  you 
can  always  count  on  me  to  wish  you  every  hap- 
piness." 

Tom  looked  baffled. 

"  Why,  you  talk  —  as  if  you  liked  it  — " 

Van  Tuyl  looked  puzzled. 

"I  don't  quite—" 

"  All  I  can  say  is,  you  must  have  changed  your 
mind  since  Saturday." 

"  Since  Saturday?  "  questioned  Van  Tuyl. 

"  Why,  don't  you  remember  warning  me,  with 
tears  in  your  eyes,  to  keep  away  from  this  —  this 
lady—" 

Van  Tuyl  turned  to  Tom  in  astonishment. 

"  Ah,  but  that  was  Saturday!  "  he  exclaimed. 


252  ROMANCE 

"  And  now,  sir  —  I  —  I  want  to  ask  you  here 
—  before  us  both  —  if  you  were  absolutely 
frank—" 

"  What's  that?  "  said  Van  Tuyl  a  little  sternly. 

"If  there  were  any  arguments  against  my  — 
my  attachment  which  you  did  not  see  fit  to  offer 
at  the  time  — " 

"  Why,  Tom,  I  don't  understand  — " 

"  If  there  was,  sir,  tell  it  now  —  tell  it,  for 
God's  sake  —  or  else  forever  after  hold  your 
peace!  " 

There  was  a  pause.  Both  Tom  and  Rita  had 
their  eyes  fixed  on  Van  Tuyl's  face. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you're  so  excited  —  but  if 
it  gives  you  any  satisfaction  to  know  I  said  all 
I  could  on  Saturday — " 

"You  held  nothing  back?"  asked  Tom. 

"  Why,  no  —  of  course  not !  "  said  Van  Tuyl 
coolly.  "What's  the  matter,  Tom?" 

Tom  turned  away  in  silence.  Rita  made  a  sud- 
den movement.  Van  Tuyl  suppressed  her  with  a 
glance.  Tom  faced  them  again,  controlling  him- 
self with  difficulty. 

"  Sit  down,  sir,  please,"  he  said. 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  253 

"Well?"  remarked  Van  Tuyl,  as  he  seated 
himself. 

"I  —  I  want  to  apologize  beforehand  for  what 
I'm  going  to  say.  I  know  I'm  acting  outra- 
geously, but  —  I  can't  help  it !  No,  wait !  You're 
my  best  friend,  Mr.  Van  Tuyl — "  He  turned 
to  Rita.  "  And  you're  the  woman  I  want  to  make 
my  wife,  so  I  —  I'm  sure  you'll  both  of  you  be 
sympathetic  and  make  —  allowances  for  me." 

"  Of  course,  my  boy,  of  course !  "  said  Van 
Tuyl  heartily. 

Tom  was  embarrassed,  but  he  went  bravely  on. 

"  Madame  Cavallini  has  been  very  frank  and 
open  with  me,  sir.  She's  just  told  me  about  cer- 
tain portions  of  her  career,  and  of  course,  know- 
ing as  I  do,  how  hard  it  is  for  girls  when  they're 
poor  and  young,  and  alone  —  why,  I  should  be 
only  too  glad  to  tell  her  it's  all  right  and  blot  it 
out  from  my  memory  forever,  but  —  but  — " 

He  paused,  unable  to  go  on,  then  gripping  the 
edge  of  the  desk  with  both  hands  and  leaning  over 
it,  haggard  and  terrible,  he  said: 

"  Before  I  can  do  that,  there's  one  thing  I've 
got  to  be  sure  of  — " 


254  ROMANCE 

"«Yes,  Tom?" 

"  It  seems,  you've  been  an  —  an  admirer  of 
hers  for  some  time — " 

Van  Tuyl  glanced  at  her  involuntarily. 

"  For  God's  sake,  don't  look  at  her  now  1  And 
what  I've  got  to  be  sure  of  is  that  there  never  has 
been  anything  between  you  two  — " 

"  What !  "  Van  Tuyl  shouted  his  amazement. 

"  I've  asked  her  and  she's  denied  it,  and  I  be- 
lieve her,  implicitly,  of  course,  but  if  —  if  you'll 
be  good  enough  to  deny  it,  too  —  oh,  merely  as  a 
matter  of  form !  why,  I  —  I  shall  be  much  obliged. 
Well?" 

Van  Tuyl  turned  toward  Rita  before  he  spoke. 
He  gazed  at  her  steadily. 

"  There's  one  thing  I'm  not  going  to  deny,  and 
that  is  my  very  deep  and  very  true  affection  for 
Madame  Cavallini.  It  is  a  sentiment  none  the 
less  deep  and  true,  because  it  has  lived  for  years 
with  no  response  from  her,  and  I  am  proud  of  my 
hope  and  my  belief  that  it  will  continue  so  long  as 
I'm  alive  to  cherish  it.  As  for  the  rest  of  your 
question,  Tom,  when  you're  yourself  again,  you'll 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  255 

agree  with  me  that  it  deserves  no  answer. 
Good-by!"  He  rose. 

"  Good-by,  madame  —  I  offer  you  the  best  of 
wishes  — " 

He  turned  toward  the  door,  but  Tom  stopped 
him.  He  seized  Van  Tuyl  by  his  hand  gratefully. 

"  No,  wait  —  you  shan't  go  until  I've  begged 
your  pardon.  I've  been  a  fool,  sir  —  a  perfect 
fool,  but  if  you  can  I  want  you  to  forgive  me !  " 

"  Don't  you  think,  my  boy,  you'd  better  ask 
Mme.  Cavallini's  pardon  first?  "  said  Van  Tuyl. 

Tom  turned  to  Rita. 

"  Rita,  darling  —  I  don't  know  just  what  to 
say  —  but  I  think  if  you  forgive  me  again  —  I 
can  promise  I'll  never  —  never —  You  do  for- 
give me,  dear  —  don't  you?  Please — " 

Rita  pulled  herself  together.  There  was  a 
grim,  determined  look  on  her  face. 

"  No  —  no  —  I  cannot !  It  is  too  much !  "  she 
exclaimed. 

"What!"  cried  Tom. 

She  looked  at  him  very  tenderly. 

"  I  lo-ove  you  —  I  mus'  spik  de  trut' — " 


256  ROMANCE 

"  Be  quiet !  "  cried  Van  Tuyl,  realizing  what 
was  coming. 

It  was  Rita  who  was  merciless  now. 

"  It  is  all  lies  vhat  ve  'ave  said  —  all  lies  —  all 
lies!  I  vas  'is  mistr-r-ress  till  de  night  I  meet 
you!" 

"Not  Mr.  Van  Tuyl  —  not  — !"  cried  Tom, 
choking. 

"  Tom,  listen  to  me  for  one  minute !  "  expostu- 
lated Van  Tuyl. 

Tom  turned  on  him  furiously. 

"You  thief  —  liar!"  he  cried. 

Van  Tuyl,  still  calm,  was  white  as  a  sheet. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Tom,  don't—" 

Tom  rushed  at  Van  Tuyl  to  strike  him  down, 
but  Rita  like  a  flash  was  between  the  two  men, 
holding  them  apart. 

"  'E  lied  for  me,"  she  gasped.  "  I  tell  you 
'e  lied  for  me." 

Tom's  arm  dropped  to  his  side. 

"  Please  go  —  both  of  you,"  he  said  huskily. 

He  stooped  to  pick  up  the  little  Testament 
which  had  dropped  to  the  floor.  He  replaced  it 
on  his  desk,  Van  Tuyl  came  toward  him. 


TOM  FINDS  TO-DAY  257 

Rita  meanwhile  had  put  on  her  cloak.  Slowly 
she  went  to  the  mantelpiece  and  took  off  his 
mother's  necklace  and  earrings.  She  kissed  the 
little  locket  as  she  laid  it  down.  Her  own  pearl 
necklace  with  its  diamond  cross  she  forgot  en- 
tirely as  she  picked  up  her  muff  and  Adelina  and 
slowly  turned  to  go.  Tom  was  sitting  in  his  arm- 
chair, his  face  buried  in  his  hands. 

"  Meestaire  —  Meestaire  Tom,"  she  began 
contritely.  But  at  the  sound  of  her  voice  Tom 
shuddered.  As  she  reached  the  door  she  turned 
again  and  looked  at  him  very  tenderly.  "  I  'ank 
you  —  for  'aving  loved  me,"  she  said  as  she 
passed  out. 


CHAPTER  VI 

What  care  I,  if  for  love  of  your  fair  face, 

To  the  wide  winds  my  work  and  place  I  throw! 

My  work  is  just  to  love  you,  and  the  place 
Just  where  you  are,  the  only  place  I  knew. 

— Richard  Le  Gallienne. 

LA    CAVALLINI    BIDS    HER    AMERICAN    PUBLIC    A 
FOND  GOOD-BYE 

SIGNORA  VANNUCCI,  La  Cavallini's  chaperone, 
major  domo,  watchdog  and  intimate  all  rolled  into 
one,  left  the  Academy  long  before  the  opera  was 
over  that  night  and  hurried  back  to  the  Brevoort 
House.  From  the  moment,  late  that  afternoon, 
when  Rita,  a  red-eyed,  white-faced  wraith  of  her 
usual  self,  had  returned  from  her  drive  and  thrown 
herself  down  sobbing  on  the  bed,  good-hearted, 
vagrant,  slipshod  old  Vannucci  had  realized  by 
instinct  that  something  serious  had  come  to  pass. 
And  her  heart  rejoiced  within  her  and  even  the 
disreputable  sprig  of  mustache  which  decorated 
one  side  of  her  lip  took  on  a  cheerful,  upward, 

258 


LA  CAVALLINI'S  GOOD-BYE      259 

exuberant  turn,  as  though  expectant  of  happier 
days  to  come  when  there  would  be  no  Rev. 
Thomas  Armstrongs  to  poison  the  purely  artistic 
atmosphere  of  their  menage.  For  between  Van- 
nucci  and  Tom  there  had  waged  a  furious  an- 
tipathy from  the  first  day  of  their  meeting.  Van 
Tuyl  had  always  been  the  old  woman's  favorite 
of  all  La  Cavallini's  swains,  and  to  see  this  courtly 
gentleman  suddenly  flouted,  disregarded  and 
treated  with  a  silence  which  was  far  more  igno- 
minious than  contempt  was  too  much  for  her  to 
stand  silently.  So,  when  she  dared  not  relieve 
her  mind  and  air  her  views  directly  to  Rita,  she 
talked  by  the  hour  to  Adelina  and  cursed  Tom 
cordially,  consistently,  and  consecutively  in  all  the 
half  dozen  languages  which  in  a  more  or  less 
broken  state  always  hung  on  the  end  of  her  poly- 
glot tongue.  And  Adelina,  with  a  perversity 
characteristic  of  her  species,  would  listen  by  the 
hour,  look  wise  as  she  lay  chattering  to  herself  in 
her  beautifully  upholstered  and  gayly  caparisoned 
little  cradle,  and  at  the  first  approach  of  Tom 
would  evince  every  evidence  of  enthusiasm  and 
delight.  Van  Tuyl,  the  monkey  had  always  de- 


26o  ROMANCE 

tested,  not  because  she  held  anything  particularly 
against  his  habits  or  his  character,  but  simply  be- 
cause Van  Tuyl  had  a  playful  habit  of  sticking 
out  his  finger  at  her  whenever  he  approached  — 
a  custom  which  infuriated  Adelina  almost  to  the 
point  of  jibbering  madness.  So  to  state  the  cir- 
cumstances mildly,  throughout  the  past  five  weeks, 
Vannucci  and  Adelina  had  scarcely  been  on  speak- 
ing terms.  At  least  what  each  had  to  say  about 
the  other  was  certainly  not  fit  to  print. 

Once  at  Rita's  suggestion,  Tom,  by  way  of 
currying  favor  with  the  vehement  old  Italian,  had 
sent  her  a  bunch  of  roses.  But  the  garbage  pail 
finale  which  speedily  overtook  the  bouquet  was  no 
whit  less  dire  and  instantaneous  than  the  similarly 
sinister  fate  which  befell  the  roses  La  Cavallini 
had  in  the  kindness  of  her  heart  sent  to  Miss 
Armstrong.  Fate  had  ordained  that  these  two 
old  women  were  never  to  meet;  which  was  rather 
a  pity,  as  they  most  assuredly  could  have  relieved 
each  other's  minds  on  a  number  of  subjects  thor- 
oughly. But  to-night,  one  glance  at  Rita's 
stricken,  tearstained  face  convinced  the  old  woman 
that  the  best  thing  in  the  world  had  happened. 


LA  CAVALLINI'S  GOOD-BYE      261 

The  break  with  the  heathen  heretic  had  come  at 
last.  Her  soul  was  glad  within  her;  but  out- 
wardly she  gave  no  sign.  Rita,  shut  up  in  her 
bedroom  until  the  hour  of  her  departure  for  the 
theater,  spoke  no  word  to  her,  and  Vannucci,  by 
long  experience,  knew  better  than,  in  such  a  crisis, 
to  venture  even  a  chance  remark.  There  was  a 
great  deal  of  electricity  in  the  air  of  the  diva's 
apartments. 

But  once  the  curtain  had  risen  on  the  last  act 
of  the  opera  the  faithful  old  Italian  slipped  quietly 
away  from  the  Academy,  leaving  Rita  to  the 
tender  mercies  of  her  regular  dresser,  and  was 
now  by  slow  degrees  broiling  her  already  too 
rubicund  features  over  the  grate  fire,  where,  with 
the  aid  of  a  saucepan  and  various  condiments 
known  only  to  herself,  she  was  concocting  a  species 
of  spaghetti  which  La  Cavallini  particularly 
adored.  The  table  was  spread  for  supper,  and 
Adolph,  the  fat  German  waiter,  was  making  him- 
self as  officious  as  possible  bustling  about  the  place. 
But  both  the  sitting-room  and  La  Cavallini's  bed- 
room, which  opened  off  of  it,  were  in  an  extraor- 
dinary state  of  dishabille.  Trunks  with  their 


262  ROMANCE 

lids  still  yawning  open  occupied  three-quarters 
of  the  floor.  Dresses,  hats,  all  sorts  of  feminine 
impedimenta  were  scattered  everywhere.  And 
while  Vannucci  watched  the  macaroni  simmer  and 
Adolph  dexterously  laid  his  covers,  they  chatted 
indiscriminately  of  the  days  when,  according  to 
their  views,  grand  opera  had  really  been  grand 
opera. 

"  Madame,  she  vill  be  hungry  vhen  she  back 
comes  from  de  opera,"  ventured  Adolph. 

"  She  eata  noddings  before  she  go  —  she 
dreenka  a  leetle  vine  an'  coffee,  dat  is  all,"  ex- 
claimed Vannucci. 

"  Ach !  No  great  artiste  will  eat  pefore  she 
sing !  Do  I  not  know  ?  Have  I  not  de  first  tenor 
of  de  Royal  Court  Opera  of  de  city  of  Steichen- 
blatter  been?  Do  I  not  remember  how  I  feel 
vhen—" 

"  You  'ave  forgetta  da  cheese,"  Vannucci  in- 
terrupted him  gloomily. 

"  Du  lieber  Gott!  "  cried  Adolph,  crushed  only 
for  a  moment.  As  he  returned  with  the  cheese 
the  old  woman  was  smiling  retrospectively. 

"  Ah,  when  I  was  a  prima  donna  at  Bologna 


LA  CAVALLINI'S  GOOD-BYE      263 

an  maka  my  debut  as  Linda  de  Chamonix  in  da 
gr-r-reat,  da  bee-autiful,  de  gala  per-for-rmance 
—  an'  'is  — 'ow  you  say  — 'Is  Excellenza  da  duca 
di  Modena,  'e  stan'  an'  clapa  de  'an's  an'  say 
so  loud — 'Bravo,  Vannucci!  Bravo!  Bravissi- 
mo  — '  " 

"  Your  sauce,  it  burn,"  Adolph,  avenging  the 
cheese,  interrupted  at  the  first  opportunity. 

Vannucci  rushed  to  the  fire  and  stirred  her 
sauce. 

"  Madonna  santa  proteggeteci !  "  she  cried. 

"  Ach !  so !  De  good  old  days  —  dey  are  all 
gone !  "  sighed  Adolph,  as  he  began  to  mix  the 
salad. 

"Da  opera  now  —  vhat  is  eet?  Von  beeg 
noise! " 

Adolph  wagged  his  head  in  corroboration. 

"  Dis  '  Faust '  an'  '  Mignon  '— " 

Vannucci  covered  one  ear  with  one  hand.  The 
other  hand  still  stirred  the  sauce. 

"  Impossibili !  "  she  cried. 

"  Ungeheuer  I  "  agreed  Adolph. 

"  But  *  La  Favorita  ' !  "  Vannucci's  face  was 
beaming.  She  kissed  her  hand  ecstatically. 


264  ROMANCE 

"  *  Der  Freischutz ! '  "  And  Adolph  rolled  his 
eyes  in  his  enthusiasm. 

"Bellissima!" 

"Wunderschon!" 

"  Celestial! !" 

"Kolossal!" 

"  But  ah !  who  now  gotta  da  voice  to  seeng 
dere !  "  sighed  Vannucci  as  one  without  hope. 

"Mario?     Bah!  "  Adolph  spat  on  the  floor. 

"  Grisi?  Pouf !  "  Vannucci  snapped  her  fingers 
contemptuously. 

"  Guiglini  ?    Ein  schwein !  M  cried  Adolph. 

"  La  Patti  ?  Un  pulce !  "  Vannucci's  face  was 
a  malediction. 

"La  Cavallini?"  continued  Adolph  in  a  ques- 
tioning way,  as  he  watched  to  see  which  way  the 
cat  was  going  to  jump.  He  had  been  present  on 
occasions  when  hoth  women  had  expressed  their 
minds  about  each  other  and  their  art  freely. 

"Ah!  si —  la  Cavallini!" 

Vannucci's  face  was  radiant  now. 

"  She  haf  a  leedle  somet'ing  " —  began  Adolph 
patronizingly. 

"  Ah,  sometime  vhen  I  stan'  in  de  veengs  an* 


LA  CAVALLINI'S  GOOD-BYE      265 

'old  er  shawl  an'  leesten  —  I  t'ink  it  is  myself 
again  —  come  back  f r-rom  long  ago !  " 

"  Ach,  Gott!  I,  too,  haf  treams!  "  Adolph  ex- 
claimed. "  An'  vhen  I  my  half  dollar  pay  on  de 
stairs  up  climb  an'  de  orchestra  begin  —  I  shut 
my  eye  an'  yet  vonce  more  again  I  am  in  Steichen- 
blatter—" 

"  The  opera.  It  is  *  Norma,'  "  volunteered 
Vannucci,  catching  his  enthusiasm. 

"  I  am  *  Pollio  '— " 

"The  great  duet— " 

"  Act  three  —  it  comes  at  last!  "  Adolph  began 
to  sing  softly  in  German. 

Vannucci,  all  on  fire  now,  was  leading  the  or- 
chestra with  her  spoon. 

"  Piu  forte !     Cosi !     Ora !     Crescendo !  " 

Each  struck  an  attitude  and,  tremendously  in 
earnest,  began  to  sing.  When  Adolph  success- 
fully scaled  the  final  high  note  of  the  aria  Van- 
nucci threw  herself  violently  into  his  arms.  Both 
were  still  gasping  for  breath  when  a  page  en- 
tered with  a  card. 

"Where's  the  madam?'1 

"  She  'ave  not  yet  r-r-return,"  said  Vannucci, 


266  ROMANCE 

once  more  watching  her  macaroni.  "  Give  me  da 
car-rr-d  —  queeck,  leetle  animal!  Queeck,  I 
say!" 

Vannucci  snatched  the  card  and  read  it. 

"A-ah!  It  is  milor!  'E  'ave  come  back! 
Santi  benedetti !  Go  —  breenga  him  in  " —  then 
turning  to  Adolph: 

"  An'  leesten,  my  f  rien',  a  bottle  of  champagne ! 
Queeck!  " 

"  Champagne !  " 

"  Da  besta  you  got !  "  she  cried  joyously  «.  id 
began  to  unpin  her  skirts. 

Van  Tuyl  came  in  in  evening  dress. 

"  Well,  signora !  "  he  exclaimed  genially.  "  I 
haven't  seen  you  for  some  time,  have  I?  You're 
younger  and  more  beautiful  than  ever!  " 

Vannucci  shook  hands  with  him  vehemently. 

"  Ah,  milor  —  you  maka  da  joke  as  alvays ! 
But  I  don'  care  —  I  am  so  full  of  joy  be-cause 
you  'ave  come !  " 

"  Thanks,  very  much,"  said  Van  Tuyl,  glancing 
at  the  two  parrots  dozing  in  their  cage.  "  How's 
the  menagerie?  Remember  me,  old  lady  — 
eh?"  He  crooked  his  finger  at  the  birds. 


LA  CAVALLINI'S  GOOD-BYE      267 

"  Dey  are  full  of  lo-ove  for-r  milor  —  ecco  1 
See!  Manrico,  'e  visha  to  keess  'is  'andl"  ex- 
claimed Vannucci. 

"  Bite  it,  you  mean  1  "  laughed  Van  Tuyl. 
"Where's  Adelina?" 

He  walked  to  her  gay  cradle  by  the  fire,  where 
the  monkey,  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  had  begun 
to  chatter  viciously. 

"  She  'ave  jost  eata  vone  greata  beeg  suppair," 
said  Vannucci,  anxious  to  apologize  for  Adelina's 
hostile  bearing. 

"  Six  olives,  strawberry  jam,  a  few  hothouse 
grapes  —  the  same  old  menu,  I  suppose,"  laughed 
Van  Tuyl. 

"  An'  da  cupa  of  chocolate !  Ah,  milor  —  you 
1ave  r-r-recolleck  ev'ryt'ingsl  " 

Van  Tuyl's  eyes  strayed  to  the  saucepan. 

"  What's  that  you're  cooking  —  not  your  fa- 
mous macaroni?  " 

"  It  is  for  madame.  She  eata  noddings  alia  da 
day.  I  coma  'ome  ear-liee  an'  maka  dis  for  —  a 
—  sur-r-pr-rise !  " 

"  How  did  she  get  through  the  performance?  " 
asked  Van  Tuyl. 


268  ROMANCE 

"  Un  triomfo  enorme !  Eet  maka  me  t'ink  of 
dat  so  splendeed  night  I  seeng  Lucrez'ia  Borgia 
an'  'is  Excellenza  da  Duca  di  Modena,  'e  — " 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  interrupted  Van  Tuyl, 
looking  at  his  watch.  "  Madame  is  late." 

"  She  say  addio  to  Signor  Strakosch  an'  de  oder 
ar-r-rtistes  an'  r-r-receive  de  pr-r-resents." 

"Really?" 

"  Da  peen  vid  da  beeg  r-rubie,  an'  de  br-race- 
let  wid  many  pear-r-rl,  an'  ah  I  Madonna !  — 
da  di-mon'  crown  fr-rom  alia  da  signora  of  New 
Yor-rk—  " 

"  Wait!  What's  that?  "  exclaimed  Van  Tuyl, 
listening. 

From  far  away  came  the  distant  strains  of 
"  Yankee  Doodle,"  played  by  a  brass  band.  The 
cheering  of  the  crowd  could  be  heard  distinctly. 
As  Van  Tuyl  quickly  raised  the  window  the  mur- 
mur swelled  into  a  babel. 

"  Santi  Benissini  1 "  cried  Vannucci,  clapping 
her  hands  like  a  schoolgirl. 

"  It's  a  brass  band,  down  Fourteenth  Street !  " 
exclaimed  Van  Tuyl.  "  They're  coming  from  the 
Academy." 


LA  CAVALLINFS  GOOD-BYE      269 

"Ecco!     See—" 

"  Torches !  By  jove !  It's  a  regular  Repub- 
lican rally  I  " 

"  More  peoples  —  an'  more  —  an'  more,  an* 
more  dey  come  1  "  Vannucci  was  half  way  out 
of  the  window. 

"  Every  fellow  with  his  hat  off  —  and  zero 
weather,  too !  "  shivered  Van  Tuyl. 

"  See  I  "  pointed  Vannucci.  "  Do  peoples  in  de 
vindows!  Dat  so  fat  man  —  vat  is  dat  'e  say?  " 

"  Listen  I  They're  cheering  her.  They're 
cheering  Cavallini." 

"  Ah !     She  come  —  she  come !  " 

"  Where?  "  cried  Van  Tuyl,  leaning  out  of  the 
window,  too. 

"  Dere  —  do  you  not  see  da  car-r-riage  ?  " 

"  But  where's  the  coachman  —  where  are  the 
horses?  "  exclaimed  Van  Tuyl.  "  Good  Lord!  if 
those  young  fools  aren't  dragging  it  themselves !  " 

"  Ah !  vhen  I  was  prima  donna  at  Bologna 
an'  singa  Lucrezia  Borgia  for-r" — suddenly  — 
"You  see  'er  —  yes?" 

"  Ah  I  there  she  is!  "  cried  Van  Tuyl. 

"By  Jove!     By —  Jove!" 


270  ROMANCE 

He  stared  spellbound.  The  band,  now  much 
nearer,  slowly  began  "  Way  Down  Upon  the 
Suwanee  River."  The  torchlights  from  the  pro- 
cession illumined  the  two  figures  on  the  balcony. 
The  crowd  was  almost  underneath  them.  Pres- 
ently the  music  stopped.  There  was  a  burst  of 
cheering.  Vannucci  waved  her  handkerchief 
wildly. 

"  Eviwa !  Evivva !  Brava  Cavallini  I 
Brava  regina !  Ah !  Ecco !  Cos!  va  bene !  " 

She  laughed  and  waved  her  handkerchief  once 
more. 

11  She  look  up  —  she  see  us  1 " 

Van  Tuyl  removed  his  hat  and  bowed  in  his 
most  stately  way. 

Suddenly  there  was  the  splutter  of  a  rocket. 
Vannucci  clutched  Van  Tuyl  by  the  arm  and 
crossed  herself. 

"  It's  all  right  —  those  fellows  on  the  corner 
are  just  setting  off  some  fireworks.  They're  bound 
to  bid  farewell  to  '68  and  La  Cavallini  with  a 
blaze  of  glory!  " 

"  She  come !  She  descend  fr-r-rom  da  car- 
riage. Look !  'ow  da  young  mans  kissa  'er  'and !  " 


LA  CAVALLINPS  GOOD-BYE      271 

cried  Vannucci.  "Queeck!  Shuta  da  window. 
Dis  room  is  all  dam  col'." 

Vannucci  flew  to  the  grate  and  threw  another 
log  on.  Van  Tuyl  closed  the  window.  Faintly 
the  band  could  be  heard  still  playing.  The  tune 
now  had  changed  from  "  Suwanee  River "  to 
"  Knowest  Thou  That  Fair  Land?  '*  And  at  the 
first  strains  of  La  Cavallini's  favorite  aria  the 
crowds  in  the  streets  burst  into  cheers  again.  Van 
Tuyl  turned  to  the  old  Italian  with  a  beaming 
smile. 

"  I'm  proud  of  young  New  York  to-night,"  he 
said.  "  They're  applauding  one  of  the  world's 
great  artists,  and  they're  not  ashamed,  God  bless 
'em,  to  show  their  feelings  in  a  perfectly  normal, 
animal  way.  I'm  glad  that  Providence  cast  my 
lot  in  this  dear  old  town  at  a  time  before  it  grows 
so  big  and  vast  and  rich  —  as  it  is  bound  to  do, 
of  course  —  that  no  one  will  have  time  to  see 
their  old  friends  any  more  and  indulge  in  a  little 
human  friendliness  and  sentiment.  The  town's 
bound  to  become  the  world's  great  mart  and  me- 
tropolis beyond  a  doubt,  and  it  will  be  all  very 
gigantic  and  beautiful,  but " —  and  Van  Tuyl 


272  ROMANCE 

shook  his  head  with  a  regretful  shake  — "but  it 
won't  be  the  old  New  York.  I'm  rather  glad  that 
I  shan't  have  to  be  here  to  see  it." 

"  Ecco !  Ecco !  "  Vannucci  was  screaming,  not 
paying  the  slightest  attention  to  Van  Tuyl's 
municipal  prophecy.  "  Vill  milor'  'elp  me  vid  dis 
chair?  —  and  the  table,  more  near  the  fire. 
Madonna  mia!  I  'ave  forgot!" 

She  rushed  into  the  bedroom  and  from  the  mass 
of  materials  scattered  on  the  canopied  bed,  she 
snatched  an  elaborately  embroidered  white  silk 
dressing  gown  and  a  tiny  pair  of  bedroom  slip- 
pers lined  with  fur.  She  placed  the  slippers  on 
the  hearth  to  warm  and  hung  the  dressing  gown 
close  to  the  fire  on  the  back  of  the  chair. 

"Milor,  'e  recolleck  3is  robe  at  Millefleurs?" 
she  asked  with  a  meaning  little  smile.  "  Ah  I 
vhat  gooda  times  milor'  'e  giva  us  dere !  " 

There  was  a  knock,  the  door  burst  open  and 
in  came  Adolph,  bursting  with  excitement  and  im- 
portance. He  was  carrying  a  champagne  bucket. 
Behind  him  came  a  troop  of  servants  bearing  fleets 
of  floral  pieces  all  decorated  with  the  entwined 
colors  of  Italy  and  the  United  States. 


LA  CAVALLINI'S  GOOD-BYE      273 

"  You  haf  hear?  —  You  haf  seen?  Look  dere 
at  the  firevorks.  It  is  almost  as  magnificent  as  a 
var  in  my  own  country." 

"  Holy  cats !  "  exclaimed  one  diminutive  page 
boy  as  he  dragged  in  a  floral  harp  twice  as  big 
as  himself.  "  This  town  ain't  seen  a  night  like 
this  since  the  Prince  of  Wales  was  here!"" 

The  waiters  were  gabbling  in  French.  Adolph 
was  spluttering  and  gesticulating  in  German, 
Vannucci  was  calling  on  all  her  Italian  patron 
saints  to  bless  the  occasion  fittingly,  and  even 
Adelina  In  her  cradle,  aroused  by  the  excitement, 
was  indulging  in  a  few  monosyllabic  monkey 
shines  which  seemed  quite  as  intelligible  as  any 
of  the  remarks  of  the  humans.  Shrieking,  com- 
manding, cursing  in  her  politest  manner  Vannucci 
was  everywhere  at  once.  At  the  height  of  the 
excitement  the  door  flew  open  again  and  hind- 
first,  bobbing  and  bowing  as  he  preceded  La 
Cavallini,  Baptiste,  the  manager  of  the  hotel, 
came  in  proffering  all  sorts  of  compliments  in 
French. 

"  Ah,  madame  I  nous  sommes  infiniment  heureux 
de  prendre  part  dans  le  triomphe  d'une  artiste  si 


274  ROMANCE 

celebre  —  et,  si  je  1'ouse  dire,  une  cliente  si  ex- 
quise !  " 

"  Merci  m'sieur  —  merci,  mille  fois.  Vous 
etes  trop  amiables,"  La  Cavallini  was  saying  as 
she  entered.  Then  at  sight  of  Vannucci,  she 
cried  in  Italian :  "  Per  Pamor  di  Dio,  mettili 
fuori  I  Non  posse  piu  — " 

The  cheering  from  without  became  louder,  more 
furious. 

La  Cavallini  paused  and  stood  listening  for  a 
moment.  She  looked  fagged  and  weary.  The 
diamond  crown  which  had  just  been  presented  to 
her  by  the  women  operagoers  of  New  York 
made  her  look  ten  years  older  than  she  really 
was.  She  was  in  evening  dress  and  in  one  hand 
she  carried  a  wreath  of  laurel  leaves  tied  with  a 
golden  ribbon  —  a  little  parting  token  from  Cor- 
nelius Van  Tuyl.  With  her  other  hand  she  held 
close  against  her  body  a  huge  cluster  of  white 
roses.  She  was  very  pale,  but  in  spite  of  her 
fagged  condition  the  triumphant  farewell  of  the 
public  had  unquestionably  pleased  her  infinitely. 
As  the  cheering  from  outside  continued  Van  Tuyl 
stepped  forward  and  took  her  hand. 


LA  CAVALLINI'S  GOOD-BYE      275 

"  Madame,"  he  said  firmly,  "  they  are  calling 
for  you.  They  won't  go  away.  Speak  just  one 
little  word  of  good-bye  to  them.  You  really  must. 
It's  their  due." 

"  Je  vous  prie,  madame  —  pour  1'honneur  de 
1'hotel!  "  pleaded  Baptiste  excitedly. 

Rita  turned  on  the  Frenchman  in  a  flash  of 
petulance. 

"Non!  Je  refuse  —  entendez  vous?  Je  re- 
fuse absolument!  " 

"  Madame,  your  public's  calling  you,"  said  Van 
Tuyl,  and  without  further  parley  he  led  her  toward 
the  window. 

"  Vat?  "  exclaimed  La  Cavallini,  still  petulant. 

"You  must  obey!"  said  Van  Tuyl  firmly. 

"Oh,  very  veil!  Open  de  vindow,"  cried 
Rita. 

She  stepped  out  on  the  balcony  without  any 
further  protest.  At  sight  of  her  the  crowd 
cheered  wildly.  The  excitement  on  Fifth  Avenue 
grew  louder  than  ever.  Holding  one  end  of  the 
heavy  window  curtain  in  front  of  her  bare  neck 
to  protect  it  from  the  cold,  Rita  leaned  forward 
and  in  her  clear,  high  voice  said  simply: 


276  ROMANCE 

"  Sveet  ladies  —  gentlemans  —  dear-r  peoples 
who  'ave  been  so  goo-ood  to  me.  I  do  not  know 
your-r  names  an'  faces  —  I  can-not  follow  you 
into  your-r  'omes.  I  can  Jos'  seeng  a  leetle  — 
an'  pr-r-ray  de  saints  dat  somet'ing  in  my  song 
vill  spik  to  you  an'  say  — 

"  I  lo-ove  you !  You  are  all  I  'ave  to  lo-ove 
in  dis  beeg  vor-r-rld.  Mebbe  you  don'  on'erstan' 
Jos'  what  dat  mean  —  you  who  'ave  'usban's, 
vives  an'  leetle  child-ren,  too! 

"  Ah,  veil !  "  She  smiled  down  on  the  sea  of 
upturned  faces.  "  I  vould  not  like  it  dat  you 
should!  I  on-lee  tell  you  so  you  feel  like  doing 
for-r  me  vone  las'  gr-r-reat  kin'ness  — " 

There  were  cries  of  "What  is  it?"  "Tell 
us!"  "Give  us  a  chance,"  from  below.  She 
took  a  step  forward  and  spoke  very  earn- 
estly. 

"  To-mor-r-row  I  go  far-r  avay.  Mebbe  some 
time  I  seeng  for-r  you  again  " —  La  Cavallini  held 
up  her  hand  for  silence  — "  an'  mebbe  not.  Who 
knows?  But  if  t'rough  all  your-r  'app-ee,  'app-ee 
lives  you  carr-ee,  vay  down  deep,  vone  leetle 
t'ought  of  me  —  vone  golden  mem-o-ree  of  my 


LA  CAVALLINI'S  GOOD-BYE      277 

song  —  vher-e-ever  I  am,  dear-r  f  rien's,  oh  1  I  vill 
know  it  an  be  gla-ad!  " 

There  were  shouts  of  "  We  will!"  "That's 
easy !  "  "  Couldn't  help  it !  "  "  Trust  us !  " 

Her  tone  changed.  She  continued  with  tender 
playfulness : 

"  In  my  countr-ee  ve  'ave  a  leetle  —  vhat  you 
say?  —  flng  ve  tell  each  oder  vhen  ve  say  '  addio  ' 
— *  Che  le  rose  floriscano  nei  vostri  cuori  fin  ch'io 
ritorno  a  coglierle ! '  '  May  de  r-r-roses  blossom 
in  your-r  'ear-rt  until  I  co-ome  to  gadder  dem 
again!'" 

It  was  Van  Tuyl  who  helped  her  very  tenderly 
in  through  the  window.  La  Cavallini  was  crying. 
The  crowd  was  cheering  more  madly  than  ever. 
Baptiste  in  an  ecstasy  was  proclaiming  his  raptures. 
Vannucci  hustled  him  and  his  waiters  out  of  the 


room. 

(C 


She  'ave  eat  nod'ings  for  vone  —  t|ro  days !  " 
she  cried.  "  Alons !  vous  comprenez  ?  Getta 
out!" 

The  waiters  flew,  but  Monsieur  Baptiste,  un- 
able to  restrain  himself  any  longer,  snatched  at 
her  hand  and  kissed  it  convulsively. 


278  ROMANCE 

"  A  demain,  madame !     Et  dormez  —  bien !  " 

As  the  door  closed  behind  Baptlste  and  his 
crew  La  Cavallini  turned  listlessly  toward  the  fire. 

"  Oh,  my  'ead !  "  she  exclaimed  in  her  broken 
English.  "  Eet  is  so  ti-r-red !  Eccola !  " 

She  lifted  the  diamond  crown  from  her  head 
and  let  it  fall  upon  the  table.  One  by  one  she 
took  off  her  diamond  necklace,  her  bracelets, 
medals,  and  her  rings  and  threw  them  carelessly 
haphazard  on  the  table.  Then,  turning  to  the 
fire  again,  she  sat  herself  disconsolately  before  it 
all  in  a  little  heap.  Vannucci,  gabbling  softly  to 
her  in  Italian,  picked  up  the  jewels  and  placed 
them  carefully  in  the  jewel  case.  Van  Tuyl,  lean- 
ing against  the  piano,  was  carelessly  rolling  a 
cigarette.  When  he  had  finished  and  lighted  it, 
he  took  it  to  Rita.  She  took  it  eagerly  and  for 
the  first  time  that  evening  greeted  him  with  a 
friendly  smile. 


CHAPTER  VII 

LA     CAVALLINI     POINTS     THE     WAY     AND     TOM 
FOLLOWS    IT 

I  would  not  spend  another  such  a  night, 
Though  'twere  to  buy  a  world  of  happy  days. 

— Shakespeare. 

Do  you  hear  the  Little  Voices  all  a-begging  me  to  go? 
All  a-begging  me  to  leave  you.     Day  and  night  they're 

pleading,  praying, 
On  the  North-wind,  on  the  West-wind,  from  the  peak 

and  from  the  plain; 
Night  and  day  they  never  leave  me  —  do  you  know  what 

they  are  saying? 

"  He  was  ours  before  you  got  him,  and  we  want  him 
once  again/'  — Robert  W.  Service. 

She  sees  a  sea  of  faces  like  a  dream; 

She  sees  herself  a  queen  of  song  once  more; 
She  sees  lips  part  in  rapture,  eyes  agleam; 

She  sings  as  never  once  she  sang  before. 
She  sings  a  wild,  sweet  song  that  throbs  with  painf 

The  added  pain  of  life  that  transcends  art  — 
A  song  of  home,  a  deep,  celestial  strain, 

The  glorious  swan-song  of  a  dying  heart. 

—  Robert  W.  Service. 

"  'EE  vould  not  spik  to  me  vone  leetle  vor-r-rd," 
she  said,  looking  up  to  Van  Tuyl  for  sympathy. 

279 


280  ROMANCE 

"  I  say,  '  T'ank  you  for-r  'aving  1-o-oved  me ! ' — 
jos'  like  dat!  an'  den  I  vait  —  but  'e  say  noddings 
—  so  I  go  avay  — " 

"  Don't,  dear  —  it's  no  use !  Don't  let's  talk 
about  it." 

"  'Ow  long,  you  t'ink,  befor-re  'e  vill  for-get? 
'E  veep  jos'  like  a  leetle  boy  —  vhen  fir-r-rst  *e 
meet  the  bad-ness  of  de  vor-r-rld — " 

"  Ah,  don't,  my  dear !     Don't  think  of  it  any 


more !  " 


She  reached  up  to  the  mantelpiece  for  a  pack 
of  cards  and  began  to  sort  them  out  in  various 
packages  like  an  old-fashioned  fortune  teller. 
Rita  looked  down  at  the  cards. 

"  T'ree  club  —  dat  mean  a  long,  long  jour- 
ney—" 

"  Clever  work  I  You're  certainly  going  away," 
chimed  in  Van  Tuyl,  delighted  at  any  excuse  to 
change  the  current  of  her  thoughts. 

"  Ye-es  —  I  am  go-ing  avay !  "  said  Rita. 

"Well,  what  comes  next?" 

"  Vour  —  five  —  seex  di-mon' —  an'  goo-ood 
vones,  too.  Dat  mean  success  an'  mon-ee  — 


LA  CAVALLINI  POINTS  THE  WAY    281 

vhat  you  say?  —  gr-r-reat  fame  —  on-lee  to 
r-reach  it  I  mus'  go  t'rough  much  — " 

"  You'll  get  there  —  never  fear!  "  he  said. 

"Ah,  che  m'importa?"  She  pointed  to  the 
jack  of  hearts. 

"  Dat  blond  young  man  —  look  1  'Ow  'e  is 
far  f r-rom  me  I  " 

Van  Tuyl  leaned  forward  to  watch  the  cards. 

"From  you? —  Oh,  of  course.  You're  the 
red  queen  down  in  the  middle  of  all  those  spades. 
They're  nothing  bad,  I  hope?  " 

"  You  are  among  dem,"  she  said  grimly. 

"I? " 

"  Ye-es, —  an'  de  oders,  too — see!  You  arc 
all  about  me  —  dere  is  no  vay  out  — " 

11  But,  dear,  I  — " 

Rita  turned  to  him  with  a  sad  little  smile. 

"My  —  vhat  you  say?  My  flames  —  my 
splendid  vones  of  whom  I  vas  so  pr-r-roud  — 
look !  'ow  you  are  black  —  an'  str-r-rong  —  Ah, 
Santa  Madonna !  I  'ave  give  you  ev'ryt'Ings  — 
an'  now  vhen  lo-ove,  'e  co-ome  an'  smile  an'  'old 
out  'is  dear-r — 'ands,  I  cannot  give  —  no,  cr-r- 


282  ROMANCE 

ruel  vones!     You  'ave  leave  me  noddings  —  you 
'ave  take  —  it  all  — " 

She  swept  away  the  cards  and  buried  her  face 
in  her  hands. 

Van  Tuyl  put  his  hand  gently  on  her  shoulder. 
Vannucci  came  bustling  in  from  the  other  room. 

"  Supper's  ready !  "  said  Van  Tuyl. 

"  I  am  not  'ungr-ree." 

"  Oh,  please,"  he  pleaded.  "  Why,  the  signora 
has  taken  all  the  trouble  to  cook  your  favorite 
macaroni  — " 

"  No,  no,  no !  "  she  cried  disconsolately. 

Van  Tuyl  raised  her  very  gently  and  led  her  to 
the  table. 

"  There ;  come  along,  little  girl.  Doesn't  that 
salad  look  good?  We'll  sit  you  down  in  this 
big  armchair  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  I'll 
be  butler,  with  my  napkin  over  my  arm  —  so  I  " 

He  imitated  a  servant's  manner. 

"  And  will  madame  drink  chianti  or  a  little 
champagne?" — Looking  at  the  label  on  the  bot- 
tle— "  Roznay  et  Perrault,  '52,  not  too  dry;  I 
venture  to  recommend  it.  Champagne?  Very 
good,  madame.  I'll  open  it  at  once." 


LA  CAVALLINI  POINTS  THE  WAY    283 

He  pulled  the  cork,  while  Vannucci,  chattering 
ever,  filled  her  plate  high  with  spaghetti. 

"  There !  Just  taste  it  now  and  tell  me  if  it's 
all  right,"  he  said  as  he  filled  her  glass.  "  Please, 
dear!  You  really  need  it!  You  know  the  sight 
of  all  these  good  things  makes  me  hungry.  I 
wonder  if  there'd  be  enough  to  give  me  just  a  — " 

Vannucci  was  on  her  feet  in  an  instant. 

"Ah,  you  lika  da  macaroni,  I  beta  my  life!" 

"Here!  That's  enough!  Thanks,"  said  Van 
Tuyl,  as  he  poured  himself  a  glass  of  wine.  "  And 
just  a  swallow  of  champagne  —  I  declare,  I  feel 
quite  famished!  Well?  Are  you  going  to  let 
me  starve?  " 

Rita  roused  herself  from  her  reverie. 
'  Vhat  you  say?  "  she  asked  blankly. 
'  You    know    I    can't   eat   anything   until   my 
hostess  does." 

"  It  is  a  treeck  you  play.  You  want  to  maka 
me  eat." 

"  No,  on  my  word.     I'm  hungry  myself." 

"  Den  Jos'  because  I  am  so  fr-rightfull-ee  po- 
lite !  "  she  smiled  and  nibbled  a  piece  of  spaghetti. 
Vannucci  and  Van  Tuyl  exchanged  glances. 


284  ROMANCE 

"  E  buono?  "  asked  Vannucci,  hanging  over  her. 

Rita  patted  the  old  woman's  wizened  cheek. 

"Squisito— !" 

"  I'm  thirsty,  too !  "  cried  Van  Tuyl. 

"  Blageur !  "  laughed  Rita,  as  she  raised  her 
glass  to  him. 

"A  thousand  thanks!  "  said  Van  Tuyl,  putting 
down  his  glass.  "  And  now,  my  dear,  the  sig- 
nora's  had  a  hard  day's  work  packing  and  to- 
morrow she'll  be  up  at  dawn.  Why  don't  you 
send  her  to  bed  and  give  her  a  good  night's  rest?  " 

"  Grazia,  milor' —  I  am  not-a  much  tir-r-red  1  " 
smiled  Vannucci,  preparing  to  depart. 

"  Good  night,  signora."  He  rose  and  kissed 
the  old  woman's  hand. 

"  Now  sit  down  and  finish  your  supper,"  he 
commanded  Rita  when  Vannucci  had  departed. 

"No  —  it  is  enough  — " 

Van  Tuyl  filled  her  glass  and  lifted  his  own. 

"Well,  then  let's  drink  a  toast  —  eh?  I  have 
it!  To  the  splendor  of  your  days  to  come! 
What's  the  matter?  Don't  they  tempt  you?  " 

La  Cavallini  did  not  drink,  but  looked  into  her 
glass  instead. 


LA  CAVALLINI  POINTS  THE  WAY    285 

"  I   do  not  dreenk  to  vhat  I  know  mus'  be 

—  but  to  a  dr-r-ream  I  vill  not  dr-r-ream  again  — 
De  peectur-re  of  a  small  r-room,  var-rm  an'  br-r- 
right  —  vit   'im  so  bus-ee   wr-riting  at   'is   desk 

—  an'  me,  befor-re  de  fir-r-re  —  jes'  rock-eeng, 
smileeng  —  vit   a    leetle   babee    nur-rsing   at   my 
breast'—" 

Van  Tuyl  rose  and  seated  himself  upon  the 
arm  of  her  chair. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  "  I  want  you  to  listen 
to  a  plan.  Now,  how  would  you  like  it  if  I 
sailed  on  the  Alaska  in  April  and  met  you  in 
Paris  and  took  you  straight  back  to  Millefleurs  — " 

"  But  my  R-r-russian  concert  tour-r?  "  exclaimed 
Rita. 

"  They  can  get  Patti  in  your  place." 

"  Patti !  "  she  cried  contemptuously. 

"  Yes,  she'd  be  glad  enough  to  go !  " 

"  But  my  dear-r  frien',  it  is  not  —  vhat  you 
say?  —  it  is  not  fair!" 

"To  whom?" 

*  To  dose  poo-oor  R-russians !  "  exclaimed  La 
Cavallini  in  all  seriousness. 

"  You're  jealous!  "  laughed  Van  Tuyl. 


286  ROMANCE 

"  Of  Adelina?  Me?  "  with  a  world  of  scorn. 
"  My  Lor-r-d !  "  Van  Tuyl  caressed  her  hair 
with  one  hand. 

"  Then  why  bother?  Think  of  Millefleurs  and 
how  we  loved  it  on  those  nights  in  May!  And 
it's  there  now  —  asleep  and  empty,  like  some 
spellbound  garden  —  just  waiting  for  the 
touch  of  spring  —  and  us  —  to  give  it  life 
again!  " 

She  rested  her  head  against  his  arm  despond- 
ently. 

"  You  tol'  me  vonce  you  ar-re  too  ol'  to  lo-ove 
Millefleurs  — " 

"  My  dear,"  said  Van  Tuyl,  "  your  sorcery  can 
make  me  young  again.  We'll  spend  the  spring 
in  our  enchanted  palace  —  and  somehow,  in  all 
that  beauty,  we'll  manage  to  forget." 

Rita  drew  away  from  him. 

u  No,  no.  Dat  is  im-poss'ble  —  you  don'  un- 
derstan' — " 

"What  is  it?     Tell  me!"  he  asked  seriously. 

She  rose  to  her  feet. 

"  I  cannot  live  like  dat  —  any  mor-r-re  — " 

Van  Tuyl  was  humbled. 


LA  CAVALLINI  POINTS  THE  WAY    287 

"  Forgive  me.  It  was  a  mistake.  I  didn't 
mean  to  hurt  you,  dear." 

Rita  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  In  dese  las'  few  veeks  I  lear-rn  somet'ing  all 
new — an'  bee-autiful  —  de  goo-ood-ness  of  de 
vor-rrld!  It  co-ome  like  some  gr-reat  light  dat 
bur-r-n  an'  blind  an'  str-rike  me  to  de  gr-r-roun'. 
It  show  me  for-r  de  fir-rst  time  to  myself!  Ah, 
Santo  Dio !  Vhat  it  is  I  see.  But  now  I  cannot 
change  —  an'  yet  I  cannot  jus'  forget  an'  go  on 
as  be-for-re  —  you  see,  I  am  —  oh,  vhat  you  call 
it?  All  meex  up!  An'  so  I  lie  down  'ere  to- 
night —  an'  say  *  goo-ooda-by.'  I  vish  dat  I 
could  die  right  'ere  to-night." 

"  And  what  about  Tom?  "  asked  Van  Tuyl,  in- 
tensely serious  now. 

"  Don't  spik  'is  name !  "  she  cried. 

"  Don't  talk  about  dying,  Rita.  That's  all  non- 
sense. If  you  really  love  Tom  as  you  say  you  do, 
why  don't  you  live  for  him?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me  —  no  —  it  is  too  much,"  said 
Rita  at  bay. 

"  I  know  it's  hard,"  said  Van  Tuyl  with  sudden 
tenderness,  "  but  that's  no  reason  why  you  should 


288  ROMANCE 

give  up.  Why,  it's  your  prize  —  your  chance  — 
the  power  to  turn  this  dreadful  business  into  some- 
thing radiant  and  true  —  the  final  gift  Tom's  put 
into  your  hands !  " 

Rita  clasped  her  hands  together. 

"  Ah,  Dio  mio !  "  she  cried. 

"  Be  brave !  Live  gloriously !  "  Van  Tuyl 
went  hurriedly  on,  "  and  if  responsibility's  the 
price  of  love  —  love's  worth  it  —  isn't  it,  my 
dear?" 

Rita  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  she 
nodded  her  head. 

"  You  ar-re  —  r-r-right,"  she  said.  "  But,  oh! 
my  frien' — my  frien' — vhat  'ave  I  done  —  vhat 
'ave  I  done  dat  all  dis  co-ome  to  me  ?  " 

She  burst  into  tears  and  threw  herself  on  the 
couch,  sobbing  bitterly. 

Van  Tuyl  reached  down  and  put  his  hand  on 
her  shaking  shoulder. 

"  My  dear,  I'm  proud  of  you,"  he  said.  "  And 
now  will  you  promise  to  get  all  these  silly  ideas 
of  death  out  of  your  head?" 

11  It  ees  so  easy  jus'  to  die,"  she  said.  "  But 
you  don'  —  tr-r-r-us'  me?  " 


LA  CAVALLINI  POINTS  THE  WAY    289 

He  turned  up  her  face  and  looked  her  in  the 
eyes. 

"I  do  —  indeed,  I  do !  "  he  said  and  kissed 
her  on  the  brow. 

A  knock  came  at  the  door. 

"Who  is  dere?"  called  Rita. 

"  It's  me,  ma'am,"  called  the  page  boy. 
"  There's  a  gent  downstairs  t'ee  ye." 

"Vhat—  ?" 

(She  opened  the  door  a  little.) 

;<  They  told  him  it  was  awful  late  an'  you  was 
tired,  but  he  wouldn't  go  an'  made  'em  send  up 
this." 

Rita  snatched  a  card  from  the  tray. 

"  It's  Tom  ?  "  cried  Van  Tuyl,  as  he  watched 
her  face. 

"Ye-es,"  she  nodded. 

"What  does  he  want?" 

Rita  read  the  message  on  the  card  aloud. 
"  I  mus'  see  you.  It  is  life  or  death.  Dat's 
all." 

"  You  mustn't  see  him.  It's  useless  —  worse 
than  that  —  it's  dangerous;  it's  madness." 

"  But  I  vant  to  tell  'im  —  vhat  you  'ave  tol' 


290  ROMANCE 

me.     I  vant  dat  'e  should  know  all  'e  'ave  done 
for-r  me,"  she  said  simply. 

"  I  wouldn't,  dear,"  warned  Van  Tuyl. 

"I  mus'I"  she  cried  decisively;  then  turning 
to  the  door: 

"  Leetle  boy!  Please  as'  de  gentl'man  to  co- 
ome  up-tair-r." 

Van  Tuyl  picked  up  his  coat  and  hat. 

"  Go  out  dat  vay,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  cor- 
ridor door,  "  or  you  meet  'im  on  da  stair-r." 

"Good-by!" 

Van  Tuyl  held  his  hand  out. 

"  Gooda-by,  gooda  frien',"  she  said,  earnestly. 

"  Do  you  forgive  me,  dear?  "  he  asked,  still 
holding  her  hand. 

"  For-r  vhat?  " 

"  For  everything,"  he  said.  With  a  little 
gasp  she  lifted  his  hand  and  lightly  touched  it 
with  her  lips. 

The  tears  were  in  Van  Tuyl's  eyes  as  he  gath- 
ered her  into  his  arms. 

"My  darling!     Beautiful!     Joy  of  men!" 

"  Oh,  my  goo-ooda  frien' !  "  She  sobbed  brok- 
enly and  buried  her  face  on  his  shoulder. 


'l    THANK    YOU    FROM     THE    BOTTOM     OF     MY    SOUL !' 


LA  CAVALLINI  POINTS  THE  WAY    291 

"  Little  bird!  "  he  said,  as  he  kissed  her  hair. 
"  I  shall  hear  you  singing  in  my  heart  for- 
ever. I  thank  you  from  the  bottom  of  my 
soul!" 

He  bowed  and  reverently  kissed  her  hand ;  then 
walked  quickly  out  of  the  room. 

Rita,  the  instant  he  had  left  her,  ran  to  the 
window  and  opened  it.  There  was  a  furious 
wind  blowing  and  the  snow  came  swirling  into  the 
room.  A  knock  came  at  the  door.  She  closed 
the  window  and  turned  toward  the  door,  half  terri- 
fied, half  delighted.  The  knock  came  again  — 
louder  this  time.  She  tried  to  call  but  could  not 
for  a  moment.  Finally  she  managed  to  gasp, 
"Co-ome!" 

Tom  opened  the  door.  She  shuddered  at  the 
sight  of  him.  His  hair  was  disheveled,  his  eyes 
wild.  He  was  without  either  overcoat  or  gloves 
and  carried  his  soft  hat  in  his  hand.  His  voice 
was  thick  and  hoarse;  his  whole  manner  strange; 
he  moved  and  talked  as  though  he  was  being  con- 
sumed by  some  internal  fire.  He  looked  as  much 
like  a  fanatic  as  he  did  like  a  drunken  man.  He 
closed  the  door,  and  stood  with  his  back  against 


292  ROMANCE 

it,  looking  at  her  fixedly.  His  shoulders  were 
covered  with  snow  flakes. 

"  You  —  you  want  to  see  me?  "  she  asked,  after 
a  moment. 

"  Yes." 

Seeing  how  wet  he  was  she  came  toward  him 
quickly. 

"  De  fir-re  —  please !  Go  queeck  an'  var-rm 
your-rself." 

She  took  him  by  the  arm  and  drew  him  across 
to  the  grate. 

"  Santi  benissimi!  You  are  all  vet!  An' 
your-r  shoe  —  per  carita !  You  'ave  valk  'ere 
in  dis  snow!  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom  in  an  odd,  dazed  sort  of 
tone.  "  I've  been  walking  —  all  the  time  that  you 
were  singing  there  —  I  think  I  got  as  far  as 
Trinity.  But  I  don't  quite  remember — " 

"  Vhat  for-r  you  co-ome  out  on  a  night  so  bad? 
An',  if  you  mus'  vidout  dat  beeg  t'ick  coat?  — " 

Tom  stared  at  her  blankly. 

"  I  was  thinking  about  something  else  —  about 
you  —  I  was  praying  for  you  in  the  twilight  — 
in  the  evening  —  in  the  dark  night  — " 


LA  CAVALLINI  POINTS  THE  WAY    293 

"Oh,  Meestaire  Tom!"  she  cried,  both 
frightened  and  bewildered. 

"  I  walked  and  prayed,"  Tom  went  on  in  the 
same  tone,  "  and  in  my  prayers  I  felt  a  little  hand 
here  on  my  arm  —  some  lost  one  offering  herself. 
I  thought  —  but  when  I  looked  down  at  the 
quivering  mouth  under  the  veil  and  bonnet  —  my 
head  swam  —  it  was  You  — always  You !  " 

"Me?" 

"  I  heard  you  crying  as  I  ran  away  —  and  I 
ran  and  ran  —  till  I  saw  lights  and  people  —  and 
then  a  little  beggar,  playing  on  the  curb,  held  up 
her  hand  —  but  when  I  gave  her  a  penny,  she 
thanked  me  —  with  your  voice!  " 

"  No !     No !     You  were  meeshtake  — " 

"  Of  course.  And  then  I  saw  you  —  walking 
by  me  in  the  streets  —  and  looking  at  me  out  of 
windows  —  hundreds  of  different  women,  but  every 
one  was  you.  I  couldn't  move  —  you  were  so 
thick  and  close  —  and  it  began  snowing,  and  I 
thanked  God  because  that  would  blot  you  from 
my  sight.  But  no,  each  snowflake  was  a  tiny  face 
—  your  face;  some  crowned  with  diamonds,  some 
with  loosened  hair,  some  old  and  terrible,  some  sad 


294  ROMANCE 

and  young;  and  you  came,  and  came  and  kept  on 
coming,  thousands  and  millions  of  you,  driving 
and  swirling  in  your  devil's  dance  by  the  glare 
of  the  gaslight  on  the  corner,  and  not  one  spoke 
—  you  all  just  looked  at  me  as  if  you  wanted 
something;  and  suddenly  I  knew;  you  were  beg- 
ging me  to  bring  your  soul  to  God  before  it  was 
too  late,  and  I  called  to  you.  I  cried  out  that  I 
would!  And  then  you  smiled  and  vanished  and 
I  came  here  through  the  storm." 

"  You  poo-oor,  poo-oor  boy !  "  cried  Rita,  clasp- 
ing her  hands. 

"  Of  course,  you  understand,"  he  said  sternly. 
"  As  man  and  woman  we've  done  with  one  an- 
other, but  I  am  still  a  minister  of  God's  word 
and  you're  still  a  human  being  in  mortal  peril!  " 

"  Ah,  don't  talk  dat  vay !  "  she  said  tenderly. 
"  You  ar-re  all  shak-eeng,  see !  you  vill  catch  col'." 

She  tried  to  make  him  sit  down  by  the  fire. 
But  Tom  paid  no  attention  to  her  words,  though 
he  never  took  his  eyes  from  her  face. 

"  D'you  know  you're  standing  on  the  brink 
of  life  or  death?  You  must  choose  between 
them  — " 


LA  CAVALLINI  POINTS  THE  WAY    295 

"  Ye-es !  ye-es !  "  she  cried,  trying  to  calm  him. 
"  Anodder  time  — " 

Tom  raised  his  voice. 

"No  —  not  another  time!  To-night!  This 
very  minute  —  now !  " 

"  Oh,  vhy  you  co-ome?  " 

"  To  save  you,  dear !  Now,  listen !  At  mid- 
night I  must  lead  my  clergy  through  the  streets 
—  you  know,  my  plan  to  gather  in  the  vagrants 
for  my  New  Year  service  —  and  to-morrow  you 
go  away.  But  I  have  to-night!  And  I'll  never 
leave  you  till  you've  given  me  your  soul !  " 

"Ah!  if  you  on-lee  knew  'ow — "  she  began; 
but  he  interrupted  her  and  held  up  his  hand.  He 
spoke  as  in  a  sort  of  rapture. 

"  Listen !  Don't  you  hear  it  —  now  —  above 
us  —  in  this  very  room?" 

'"Ear-rvhat?" 

"  The  sound  of  many  waters  — " 

"  Vat?  "  she  asked,  puzzled. 

"  The  Voice,"  Tom  went  on  solemnly.  "  The 
thunder  of  an  angel's  wings." 

There  was  a  pause,  while  Rita  looked  at  him  in 
bewilderment. 


296  ROMANCE 

"  I  'ear-r  de  vind  blow  —  an'  my  'ear-rt  beat 

—  dat  is  all,"  she  said  at  last. 

"It's  here;  I  feel  it!"  he  cried,  beating  his 
breast. 

"Oh,  dear  God  —  dear  God!  You're  giving 
me  the  strength  to  conquer  her !  " 

"  Conqu-air?  "  she  exclaimed  in  sudden  terror. 
"  You  vant  to  'ur-r-rt  me !  Ah,  don'  'ur-r-rt  me 

—  please  —  please,  Meestalre  Tom!" 

He  turned  to  her  and  spoke  quite  tenderly. 
"  My  dear,  I  wouldn't  hurt  you  for  the  world. 
It's  love  I'm  offering  you  — "  Rita  made  a  quick 
movement  away  from  him.  "  No,  wait,  my  poor 
child  —  not  the  sick  passion  of  those  luxurious 
beasts  —  not  even  the  great  pity  I  once  knew. 
The  love  I  bring  to  you  to-night  is  God's 
alone!" 

"God's  lo-ove?"  said  Rita,  still  more  be- 
wildered. 

"  Yes  —  His  —  the  mighty  tenderness  that 
moves  the  stars  and  understands  when  little  chil- 
dren pray — " 

"  Vat  you  mean?     I  don'  know  vat  you  say." 

"  Little  lost  soul  I  am  ready  to  carry  you  home  I 


LA  CAVALLINI  POINTS  THE  WAY    297 

Little  tired  heart,  eager  for  joy —  follow  me  and 
find  it  in  His  arms !  " 

"  I  don' —  qvite  on'erstan',"  she  said,  thinking 
in  her  heart  the  man  must  have  gone  mad. 

"  I  thought  our  meeting  was  the  work  of 
chance.  But  no !  God  drew  you  to  me,  over 
land  and  sea,  that  I  might  be  the  engine  of  His 
word!  You  are  a  bride  —  but,  ah!  not  mine  — 
not  mine !  " 

"  A  br-r-ride  —  me?  "  echoed  Rita,  shaking  her 
head  sadly.  "  No  —  no  —  dat  is  im-poss'ble !  " 

Tom's  eyes  were  gleaming.  He  was  using  his 
pulpit  voice  as  he  never  had  before. 

"  Don't  you  hear  the  midnight  cry  — c  Behold ! 
the  Bridegroom  cometh!  Go  ye  out  to  meet 
Him !  '  Don't  you  see  Him  —  coming  from  the 
wilderness  like  a  pillar  of  smoke,  perfumed  with 
myrrh  and  frankincense?  His  eyes  are  as  a  flame 
of  fire  —  on  his  head  are  many  crowns  —  he  wears 
a  garment  dipped  in  blood  and  on  it  a  name  is 
written  —  Lord  of  lords  and  King  of  kings! 
Hark!  He  is  outside,  knocking  at  your  door! 
O  Rose  of  Sharon  —  Lily  of  the  Valley  —  cease 
your  slumber  —  for  the  hour  has  come !  " 


298  ROMANCE 

"  Your  eyes  —  dey  bite  me  —  oh,  dey  bur-r-n 
me  up !  "  she  cried,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands. 
"  Meestaire  Tom  —  Meestaire  Tom!  " 

"  Darling,"  he  cried  hoarsely,  "  open  your 
heart  —  for  God's  sake  let  Him  in!  " 

As  he  strove  to  take  hold  of  her  Rita  shrieked 
in  terror: 

"  Don't  touch  me  —  don't  —  let  me  go! " 

She  fell  upon  her  knees  and  strove  to  free  her 
hands  from  his  clutch,  but  he  held  her  tight. 

"  So  you're  proud  —  you  think  you  can  close 
your  soul  against  the  Lord!  Well,  let  me  tell 
you  now  that  unless  you  repent  the  day  will  come 
when  your  pride  lies  broken  —  shattered  by  His 
wrath!" 

"Let  me  go  —  let  me  go!"  she  cried  again. 
She  tore  herself  free  and  ran  over  to  the  far  side 
of  the  room,  where  she  stood  crouching  in  terror 
against  the  wall. 

She  began  suddenly  to  cry  like  a  frightened 
child.  "  Oh !  Oh !  I  am  afr-r-raid !  " 

"  Afraid !  Afraid! "  cried  Tom,  still  more 
wildly.  "  Miserable  sinner,  how  can  you  live 
with  that  horror  staring  in  your  eyes?  The 


LA  CAVALLINI  POINTS  THE  WAY    299 

vision  of  that  dreadful  day  when  the  sun  is  smit- 
ten, and  the  moon  is  blood — " 

"  I  don'  believe  dat  —  no  —  no,  I  don' —  I 
don't!" 

"  When  the  graves  are  broken,  and  the  sea 
gives  up  its  dead  —  and  great  and  small  they 
stand  before  Him  and  the  book  is  opened  and  He 
sits  in  judgment  — " 

"  Meestaire  Tom  —  Jos'  vait  vone  meenute !  " 
she  cried  in  a  frantic  effort  to  stop  him. 

"  Don't  you  hear  that  great  Voice,  like  a  light 
that  blinds  — '  I  made  you  keeper  of  My  vine- 
yards. But  your  own  vineyards  you  have  not 
kept.  So  you  shall  be  cast  into  the  bottomless  pit 
and  the  lake  of  fire  —  and  there,  in  the  midst  of 
your  eternal  torment,  you  shall  hear  the  "  Allelu- 
ias !  "  in  the  rainbow  round  My  throne ' !  " 

He  sank  into  a  chair  exhausted  by  his  own  ve- 
hemence. He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  His 
whole  frame  shook  with  sobs.  Rita  came  toward 
him  slowly. 

"  Meestaire  Tom,"  she  said  very  quietly,  "  I 
am  quite  sure  dis  is  de  las'  time  dat  I  loo-ook 
upon  your-r  face.  An'  so  I  vant  to  tell  you  Jos' 


300  ROMANCE 

a  leetle  somet'ing  —  an'  den  —  veil,  mebbe  I  can 
say  *  goo-gooda-by.' '  She  came  a  little  nearer  and 
spoke  at  first  with  some  difficulty.  "  You  ar-re 
ver'  kin'  to  t'ink  of  me  so  much  —  aftair  all  de 
tr-r-rouble  I  'ave  breeng  —  but,  dear  —  you  can 
f or-rget  me  now  —  it  is  all  r-r-right  —  your 
vor-r-rk  is  done !  " 

"What's  that!  "  cried  Tom,  suddenly,  looking 
up. 

Rita's  eyes  were  shining. 

"I  vant  to  ma-ake  my  life  all  goo-ood  —  like 
you-r-rs !  Ah,  ye-es  —  I  know  dat  vil  be  'ar-r-rd, 
but  I  don'  car-re  —  an'  mebbe  de  kin'  Madonna 
she  vill  'elp  me  —  vhen  she  see  me  try."  She 
clasped  her  hands  together  and  lifted  her  face  to 
his  with  the  dawn  of  a  new  hope  in  it. 

Tom  stared  at  her  fixedly  again.  "  Your  lips 
drop  as  the  honeycomb  —  your  mouth  is  smoother 
than  oil  —  but  your  feet  go  down  to  death  —  and 
your  steps  take  hold  on  hell!  " 

Rita  held  her  ground.  She  seemed  to  have  sud- 
denly lost  her  fear  of  him. 

"  You  don't  think  God,  'E  vill  for-rgive  me  — 
no?"  she  asked  a  little  anxiously.  "Ah,  foolish 


LA  CAVALLINI  POINTS  THE  WAY    301 

vone !  'E  vill,"  she  smiled.  "  Did  'E  not  make 
my  face  so  men  'ave  al-vays  lo-ove  me  —  did  'E 
not  put  my  voice  'ere  to  de-light  de  vor-r-rold? 
Did  'E  not  give  to  vone  poor  leetle  girl  —  who 
ask  Tm  not'ings  —  so  much  to  car-r-ree  dat  she 
lose  'er  vay?  'E  vill  not  be  sur-r-pr-rise  she 
stumble  so-ometimes  — 'E  vill  not  scol'  much  vhen 
she  make  meestake  — 'E  vill  Jos'  smile  an' 
keep  'Is  candle  bur-rning  —  an'  in  a  leetle  vhile 
she  see  it  —  an'  co-ome  'ome !  " 

Tom  rose  to  his  feet  and  came  toward  her. 

"  Promise  me  something !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"Vhat?" 

"  Take  my  hands  and  look  me  in  the  eye  — 
and  promise  me  never  to  give  yourself  to  any  man 
again." 

Rita  turned  away  in  agony. 

"  Ah,  vhy  don'  you  tr-r-rust  me  —  vhy  you 
doubt  me  so  ?  " 

*  You  won't?  "  he  demanded  at  the  top  of  his 
voice. 

"  'Ere  —  take  my  'ands !  "  Tom  seized  them 
eagerly. 

"  'Ow  col'  you  ar-re !  —  I  promise  —  vhat  you 


302  ROMANCE 

vant  I  say?  —  nevair  to  give  myself  to  an-y  man 
again ! " 

"You  swear  it?" 

"  Ye-es,  I  svear!     Now  are  you  satisfied?" 

"A-ah!"  he  cried  suddenly  and  pushed  her 
brutally  away  from  him. 

"  Vhat  is  it  now?  "  cried  Rita. 

"  I've  just  remembered  that  you  swore  be- 
fore—" 

Rita  shrank  guiltily  away  from  him. 

"  No  —  no !  Dis  is  not  de  same.  Now  I  am 
'onest!" 

"  You  looked  up  —  just  as  you're  looking 
now,"  Tom  began. 

She  raised  her  hands  as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow. 

"No,  no!"  she  cried.     "Stop  it!" 

"  And  you  lied  —  and  lied  —  you  lied  to  me !  " 
cried  Tom,  continuing  his  arraignment. 

"No  —  don't  —  please;  it  is  all  diff'rent 
now!" 

"  Different?  I  don't  see  it.  Why,  it's  just 
the  same — " 

"  No  —  no  —  I  tell  you  —  I  am  diff'rent  —  / 
'ave  change  —  I  am  go-ing  now  to  be  goo-ood." 


LA  CAVALLINI  POINTS  THE  WAY    303 

"  But  can  you?  "  he  asked  sneeringly. 

"  Listen !     I  vill  stop  singing  —  leave  de  stage 

i 

—  fin'  out  a  convent  where  dey  take  me  in  an'— 
Ecco !  I  'ave  it  I  Dere  ar-re  so-ome  nuns  near 
Geneva  who  nur-rse  de  seeck!  I  vill  go  str-r- 
raight  from  Napoli  —  lear-rn  'ow  to  'elp  —  an* 
vor-rk  until  my  flesh  fall  fr-rom  de  bones." 

"  You'll  do  that  —  just  to  show  me  you're  sin- 
cere? "  cried  Tom. 

Rita  turned  to  him  imploringly. 

"  I  vill  do  all  you  vant  —  ye-es,  any? ing  — 
on-lee  believe  me  —  Jos'  believe  —  or  else  I  die  I  " 

Tom's  heart  seemed  touched  at  last. 

11  All  right,"  he  said.     "  If  you  do  that  I'll  — " 

"  You  mean  it?  "  exclaimed  Rita  scarcely  dar- 
ing to  believe  her  ears. 

Tom's  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"Yes.  God  bless  you,  dear  —  good-by,"  he 
said  in  a  husky  voice.  He  picked  up  his  hat  and 
had  almost  reached  the  door  when  he  seemed  to 
remember  something  and,  thrusting  his  hand  into 
the  breast  pocket  of  his  coat,  he  pulled  out  the 
long  pearl  necklace  with  the  diamond  cross  which 
she  had  left  in  his  rooms  that  afternoon.  As  he 


304  ROMANCE 

turned  back  to  lay  it  down  upon  the  piano,  his 
eyes  suddenly  fell  on  Van  Tuyl's  visiting  card. 
He  snatched  it  up  and  glanced  at  it  furiously. 

"That  card  —  this  man  Van  Tuyl.  He  has 
been  here  this  afternoon?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Meestaire  Van  Tuyl  —  oh,  yes.  'E  only 
came  to  say  good-by,"  she  explained  anxiously. 

"He's  been  here  then?" 

11  Si-si." 

Tom  put  his  hand  to  his  throat  as  though  to 
steady  himself.  His  eyes  were  blazing.  Again 
Rita  began  to  cower. 

"To-night?" 

"  Ye-es." 

"When?"  thundered  Tom. 

"  Jus'  be-fore  you  co-ome." 

With  a  yell  of  rage,  Tom  seized  the  card  and 
crumbled  it  in  both  hands. 

"  Oh!  What  a  fool  I've  been!  What  a  fool 
—  what  a  blind,  miserable,  wretched  fool!  " 

"  Vhat  is  it?  "  she  cried,  bewildered  once  more. 
"Tell  me  —  vhat  'as  'appen?  Vhat  you  mean? 
O  dear-r-r  Lor-r-rd  —  vhat  you  mean?" 

"  Don't  try  to  cheat  me  any  more  1     I  know 


LA  CAVALLINI  POINTS  THE  WAY    305 

what's  happened  in  this  room  to-night!  While  I 
was  tramping  through  the  storm  and  snow,  pray- 
ing with  my  whole  heart  for  your  soul's  redemp- 
tion—  you  lay  here  laughing  in  your  lover's 


arms." 


"  No  —  no !     It  is  not  true !  "  she  cried  shrilly. 

"  And  then  I  came  —  another  chance  to  make 
a  fool  of  me!  And  so  you  told  me  you'd  re- 
pented—  you  smiled  and  smirked  an —  Tell 
me,"  he  sneered,  "  how  did  you  keep  your  face 
straight?  I'm  rather  curious  to  know." 

"  Please,"  she  cried  piteously.  "  Meestaire 
Tom  —  Jos'  leesten  —  I  vill  — " 

"  And  I  believed  you !  "  Tom  went  on  savagely. 
"  I  believed!  Another  splendid  joke  to  tell  Van 
Tuyl!  And  won't  the  old  man  love  it.  And 
he'll  be  dead  right  —  even  /  can  see  it's  funny. 
Funny?  It's  the  richest  thing  I've  heard  for 
years  and  years  I  " 

He  threw  his  head  back  and  laughed  bitterly. 
At  the  sound  of  his  laughter  Rita  covered  her 
ears. 

"  Don' —  don' —  it  is  too  ter-r-rible !  " 

"  Come  on  —  let's  tell  him  together  I  "  cried 


3o6  ROMANCE 

Tom  deliriously.  "Where  is  he?  Outside 
there,  hanging  round  the  corners?  No!  He's 
still  here  —  slinking  about  some  servant's  pas- 
sageway—  hiding  behind  a  door  at  every  sound 
—  waiting  till  I  have  gone  —  and  everything's 
quiet  —  and  you  whistle  twice  to  tell  him  the  coast 
is  clear !  " 

"  Dat  is  not  so,  I  say!  'E  co-ome  in  kin-ness, 
jos'  be-cause  'e  feel  ver'  sorr-ee  for-r  me  —  an* 
vhen  'e  ask  me  to  go  to  'im,  I  'ave  re-fuse  — " 

"What?" 

She  raised  her  head  proudly  and  faced  Tom. 

"I  'ave  r-re-fuse  —  you  'ear  me?  I  'ave  tol* 
Mm  ' No!'  an'  'e  is  a  gr-r-reat  beeg  man  —  an* 
on'erstan' — an'  den  I  t'ank  'im  —  an'  ve  say 
'  goo-gooda-by  ' — " 

"You  lie!"  he  thundered.  "Why,  look  at 
those  two  chairs  —  they  look  like  a  refusal,  don't 
they?  And  those  glasses  —  champagne!  " 

"No — :no —  it  is  quite  diff'rent  —  you  ar-re 
all  mee-stake  I " 

In  fury  Tom  seized  the  table  cloth  and  sent  all 
the  table's  contents  crashing  to  the  floor.  Then 
he  turned  on  her  fiercely. 


LA  CAVALLINI  POINTS  THE  WAY    307 

"  Now  will  you  dare  to  deny  Van  Tuyl's  your 
lover?" 

"Yes!  Yes!  I  do!  I  do!"  sobbed  Rita, 
swaying  a  little  as  she  spoke.  "  I  'ave  r-re-fuse 
'im  an'  I  tell  you  vhy.  I  t'ought  it  vas  because 
I  vant  so  much  to  be  goo-od.  But  now  I  know 
dat  I  vas  all  meestake.  I  br-r-reak  vit  'im  be- 
cause I  lo-ove  anodder!  " 

"Who  is  he?  "  cried  Tom,  glaring  at  her. 

Half  fainting  Rita  held  out  her  arms  toward 
him. 

"  You!  " 

Tom  turned  sharply. 

"Don't!" 

"  Fr-r-give  me,"  she  cried,  trying  to  pull  her- 
self together. 

Tom  twisted  his  hands  as  if  in  prayer. 

"Oh,  my  God!     Oh,  my  God!" 

Rita,  turning  away  from  him,  held  on  to  the 
back  of  the  armchair  for  support. 

"  If  you  don'  min' —  I  mus'  ask  you  now  — 
to  leave  me  —  it  is  almos'  midnight  —  you  'ave 
your-r  sair-vice  in  de  chur-r-ch  —  an'  I  myself  mus' 
—  tr-r-ry  to  sleep  a  leetle." 


308  ROMANCE 

She  turned  with  a  great  effort  and,  holding  out 
her  hand,  tried  to  smile. 

"  So,  goo-ooda  night.     I  'ope  you  — " 

Her  words  died  away  in  terror  as  she  saw  the 
expression  on  his  face. 

"  Vhy  you  loo-ook  at  me  like  dat?  "  she  cried, 
recoiling  from  him. 

La  Cavallini  knew  that  look  too  well. 

"  All  right  —  I'm  going  —  yes  —  I'm  going !  " 
exclaimed  Tom  nervously.  "  But  first  there's 
something  we  must  do  —  what  is  it?  I  forget  1 
Oh,  yes,  of  course!  We  must  pray  together  1 
That's  it !  Pray  for  your  soul  and  for  your  soul's 
salvation." 

"  No  —  go  now !  I  am  in  God's  'ands  — 'E 
vill  take  car-re  of  me  — "  In  sudden  fear  as  he 
came  toward  her:  "  Oh!  vhat  you  want?  " 

"  Come  here !  "  said  Tom,  thickly.  He  seized 
her  by  the  arms. 

"There!  That's  right!  Give  me  your 
hands!" 

He  held  them  tight  against  his  breast;  then,  as 
Rita  struggled  again  to  free  herself,  he  seized  her 
madly  in  his  arms. 


LA  CAVALLINI  POINTS  THE  WAY    309 

"  What  a  fool!  What  a  fool  I've  been!  "  he 
cried.  "  I  thought  I  came  to  save  you,  but  now  I 
know  it  was  just  because  I  — " 

"  Meestaire  Tom !  Meestaire  Tom !  "  she 
sobbed  despairingly.  "  Please  let  me  go.  It  is 
because  I  love  you  dat  I  ask!  Don't  be  to  me 
like  all  the  other  mans,  for  it  would  break  my 
'eart.  Let  me  be  good !  "  she  cried  imploringly. 
"  Let  me  be  good !  Leesten !  —  leesten !  —  I  am 
'ere.  I  am  alone.  I  'ave  not  the  strength  to 
fight  against  you  any  more,"  she  implored. 
"  But  before  it  is  too  late  remembaire  —  remem- 
baire  what  I  say  —  this  is  the  one  beeg  moment  of 
my  life.  The  kind  of  womans  I  vill  always  be 
is  for  you  to  say  as  we  stand  'ere  in  dis  room  now 
< —  and  oh,  Meestaire  Tom  —  don't  make  me  bad 
again.  You  are  a  man  God  sent  to  'elp  the 
world.  All  right !  'elp  me  —  go  avay  —  my 
'ear-r-rt  it  vill  go  with  you  always.  If  you  vill 
only  let  me  keep  my  soul.  Let  me  be  good,"  she 
cried.  "  Let  me  be  good !  " 

At  that  moment  came  from  the  street  the  sound 
of  singing.  Tom  started  and  seemed  to  come 
suddenly  to  himself.  As  his  hold  relaxed  on  her 


3io  ROMANCE 

she  freed  herself  and  rushed  frantically  to  the 
window  and  threw  it  open. 

"  Leesten !  "  she  cried.  "  It  ees  your  boys. 
They're  calling  you.  'Ear  vat  they  sing!  " 

Above  the  whistles  and  the  church  bells  the 
voices  of  the  choir  of  St.  Giles's  rose  clear  and 
sweet.  To  Rita  Cavallini  that  chorus  seemed  like 
a  direct  answer  to  her  prayer. 

From  heaven  He  came  and  sought  her 

To  be  His  Holy  Bride. 
With  His  own  Blood  He  bought  her 

And  for  her  life  He  died. 

Tom  turned  toward  her  abashed  and  shame 
faced.  She  faced  him  fearlessly,  but  with  a  look 
of  unutterable  tenderness  in  her  eyes.  He  spoke 
no  word  to  her;  but  kneeling  down  beside  her  he 
raised  the  hem  of  her  skirt  and  kissed  it  rever- 
ently. 

"  Gooda-by,"  she  cried  as  he  reached  the  door. 
"  God  bless  you  always,  Meestaire  Tom." 

And  three  minutes  later  from  her  little  balcony 
she  watched  him  marching  at  the  head  of  his 
choir  up  Fifth  Avenue  and  out  of  her  life  for- 
ever. 


THE  EPILOGUE 

One  that  was  a  woman,  sir;  but,  rest  her  soul,  she's  dead! 

—  Shakespeare. 

But,  O,  for  the  touch  of  a  vanish'd  hand, 
And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still! 

—  Tennyson. 

And  as  I  walk  by  the  vast  calm  River, 

The  awful  River  so  dread  to  see, 
I  say  "  Thy  breath  and  thy  depth  forever, 

Are  bridged  by  his  thoughts  which  come  to  me." 
—  Jean  Ingelow's  "Divided" 

"  AND  that's  how  I  remember  her,"  concluded 
the  Bishop,  "  standing  there  all  in  white,  with  her 
hair  loosened  and  her  eyes  full  of  tears.  She 
crossed  herself  —  I  think  that  she  was  praying  — 
and  the  next  thing  I  knew  I  was  on  the  sidewalk 
and  my  choir  —  God  bless  'em !  —  were  coming 
round  the  corner  of  Eighth  Street,  marching  like 
soldiers  to  the  same  tune  that  wretched  German 
band  is  murdering  outside  there  now  —  Ah  I 
Really  —  that's  too  much !  Give  them  a  quarter, 
Harry  —  and  tell  them  to  go  away!  " 


3i2  ROMANCE 

Harry  opened  the  window  and  threw  a  quarter 
to  the  band. 

"  Hi  —  you  I  That'll  be  enough  for  to- 
night!" 

The  music  stopped.  There  was  silence,  save 
for  a  few  far-off  horns  still  welcoming  in  young 


The  Bishop  roused  himself  as  Harry  returned 
and  put  the  dead  violets  and  handkerchief  in  his 
pocket. 

"  So  that's  what  I  wanted  to  tell  you,  my  boy  ! 
I  came  home  that  night  an  older  —  and  I  think 
a  better  man.'* 

"And  —  Madame  Cavallini?"  asked  Henry 
eagerly. 

The  Bishop  was  still  gazing  in  the  fire. 

"  She  became  even  more  famous  before  her 
retirement  —  but  of  course  you  know  —  " 

"  Where  is  she  now?  "  asked  Harry. 

"  I'm  not  sure  —  but  I  believe  she's  in  Italy 
somewhere  —  living  rather  quietly.  She  and 
Patti  are  the  only  ones  left  —  a  wonderful 
career,  my  boy  —  a  very  great  artist  —  I  never 
saw  her  again." 


THE  EPILOGUE  313 

Harry  stood  up  and  placed  his  arms  rather 
awkwardly  round  the  back  of  his  grandfather's 
chair. 

"  I  say,  Grandpa  —  d'you  mind  my  saying  that 

—  that  I  think  you're  just  a  corker !  " 

The  Bishop  smiled  at  him  approvingly. 
"  Nonsense,  my  hoy !  But  now  I  hope  you 
understand  I  haven't  quite  forgotten  what  it  feels 
like  to  be  young  —  and  although  it's  true  I  al- 
ways read  the  Evening  Post  I  still  can  sympathize 

—  and  even   presume  to   offer  some  occasional 
advice!" 

"  I  know  it  —  I  appreciate  it  — "  began  Harry. 

"  My  dear,  dear  boy,"  interrupted  the  Bishop 
solemnly,  "  unless  your  love  is  big  enough  to 
forget  the  whole  world  and  yet  remember  heaven 
you  have  no  right  to  make  this  girl  your  wife  I " 

Harry  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
walked  up  and  down  the  room. 

"Grandpa,  I've  been  an  ass!" 

The  Bishop  wiped  his  glasses  and  gave  a 
whimsical  smile. 

"  I  suppose  you  have,  Harry  —  I  suppose  you 
have!" 


3i4  ROMANCE 

Harry  turned  and  looked  at  his  grandfather. 
"  I  don't  think  you  quite  understood  me,  sir,"  he 
said. 

"  I've  been  an  ass  to  hesitate  one  single 
minute!  However,  it's  all  right  now  —  Lucille 
and  I  are  going  to  get  married  as  soon  as  ever 


we  can." 


The  Bishop  looked  startled. 

"  God  bless  my  soul !  But  that  isn't  why  I 
told  you  my  story!  I  wanted  to  get  this  non- 
sense out  of  your  silly  young  head !  " 

"Did  you?"  laughed  Harry,  patting  the  old 
man's  shoulder.  "  Well,  it  turned  out  quite 
different  and  it's  too  late  now  to  change.  Have 
—  have  you  any  engagement  for  to-morrow 
afternoon,  sir?  " 

"I  —  I  can't  say  that  I  recall  any  at  this 
moment,"  said  the  Bishop,  still  rather  flustered. 

"Then  d'you  mind  if  we  make  one  now,  sir? 
I  want  you  to  marry  Lucille  and  me ;  four-thirty's 
a  good  hour,  don't  you  think? 

"  Oh,  Grandpa !  " —  and  he  seized  his  hand  — 
"  I  can't  say  it  as  I  ought  to  —  but  we'll  be  grate- 
ful all  our  lives  for  what  you've  done  to-night  1  " 


THE  EPILOGUE  315 

"Well  —  well  — !  I  declare—!"  said  the 
Bishop  as  Harry  vanished.  He  took  out  his 
handkerchief  and  passed  it  nervously  over  his 
brow.  The  door  opened  and  Susan  appeared 
smiling  brightly. 

"  Happy  New  Year,  Grandpa !  "  she  cried  as 
she  kissed  him. 

"Happy  New  Year,  my  dear!"  said  the 
Bishop. 

"Well — ?"  she  began  angrily.  "What 
happened?  Did  you  convince  him?  " 

"  Susan,  I  want  you  to  order  some  white 
flowers  and  a  wedding  cake !  " 

"  Oh  I  "  Susan  wriggled  delightedly. 

"  For  to-morrow  afternoon !  "  exclaimed  the 
Bishop  very  sternly.  "  Four-thirty,  I  believe." 

Susan  flung  her  arms  about  the  old  man's  neck. 
"  You  duck!  I  just  knew  Harry  could  get 
around  you!  I  knew  this  would  happen,"  she 
went  on  confidently.  "  You  see  I'm  a  bit  of  a 
weather  prophet,  Grandpa,  and  I  felt  it  in  my 
bones  that  though  we've  had  rather  a  stormy 
New  Years,  we  are  all  going  to  have  a  perfectly 
lovely  Easter." 


3i6  ROMANCE 

The  old  man  smiled  at  her  lovingly.  He 
stroked  his  hair.  "  The  curls  are  the  curls  of 
my  new  little  Susan,"  he  said.  "  But  the  voice 
and  those  beautiful  hands,  they  seem  to  be  those 
of  your  dear  grandmother." 

The  Bishop  changed  his  tone.  "  So  you  knew 
all  the  time  that  Harry  would  get  around  me. 
Oh,  did  you?"  said  the  Bishop,  his  eyes  twink- 
ling. "  Well,  now  that  you  have  arranged  every- 
thing to  suit  yourselves,  would  you  please  mind 
finishing  my  paper  and  then  going  to  bed?  "  He 
leaned  back  comfortably  and  closed  his  eyes. 

"  Where  is  it?  Oh,  yes!  Wait  till  I  turn  on 
the  light,"  said  Susan.  She  sat  down,  crossed 
her  knees,  sighed,  and  unfolded  the  Post. 
"  Civil  Service  Protest  —  Seven  Year  Tenure  of 
Office  Plan  Opposed." 

"Is  there  any  foreign  news?"  asked  the 
Bishop. 

Susan  could  no  longer  restrain  a  yawn.  "  Oh, 
just  some  uprising  in  Portugal  —  a  new  Chinese 
loan."  She  turned  the  page.  "  Why,  Caval- 
lini's  dead  I  I  thought  she  died  a  long  time  ago, 
didn't  you?" 


THE  EPILOGUE  317 

"  What  does  —  it  say?  "  said  the  Bishop,  after 
a  slight  pause. 

"  Oh,  it's  just  a  cable.  *  Milan  —  Dec.  30. 
Mme.  Margharita  Cavallini  died  this  morning  at 
her  villa  on  the  Lake  of  Como.'  " 

"Is  that  —  all?" 

"  There's  a  whole  column  of  biography  stuck 
on  underneath.  Shall  I  read  it?  Oh,  of  course! 
I  forgot!  She  and  Patti  were  your  two  great 
operatic  crushes,  weren't  they?  Well,  she  was 
born  at  Venice  in  1841.  That  makes  her — " 
Susan  began  to  count  the  years  off  on  her  fingers. 
"  Let  me  see." 

"  Don't  tell  me  how  old  she  was ! "  pleaded 
the  Bishop. 

11  All  right,"  she  smiled  as  she  ran  her  eye 
down  the  column. 

"'Debut  at  Milan  in  1859  —  Sang  prima 
donna  roles  in  Paris  under  the  direction  of  Ros- 
sini —  success  in  London  —  hm  1  —  brought  to 
this  country  by  Strakosch  —  appeared  as  "  Mig- 
non  "  at  the  Academy  of  Music  — '  Every  one 
went  mad  over  her,  didn't  they?  '  Opera  and 
concert  tours  over  all  the  civilized  globe  —  retired 


3i8  ROMANCE 

in  1889 — numerous  charities — founded  and  en- 
dowed a  home  in  Paris  for  poor  girls  who  come 
to  study  music  —  in  1883  created  Marchese  Tor- 
rebianchi  by  King  Umberto  I  —  the  intimate 
friend  of  Rubinstein,  Grieg  and  Paderewski  — 
never  married — 'that's  funny,  isn't  it?"  said 
Susan,  dropping  the  paper  for  a  moment. 
"  Well,  no  matter  what  you  say  I  bet  she  wasn't 
a  bit  more  wonderful  than  my  divine  Geraldine !  " 
She  began  to  read  again  slowly.  "  Anglican 
Congress  at  Detroit  —  Federation  of  Churches 
—  Further  Plans.  Oh,  dearl  There's  the  old 
Conference  again !  " 

Susan  yawned  and,  looking  up,  noticed  that  the 
Bishop's  head  had  fallen  forward. 

"Sleepy,  Grandpa?"  she  said,  tenderly. 

The  old  man  roused  himself. 

"I — ?  No,  my  dear,  I  was  just  thinking  — 
that's  all." 

Susan  yawned  profoundly  again. 

"Well,  7  am,  anyway.  May  I  go  to  bed 
now?  " 

The  Bishop  smiled  indulgently. 

"  Of  course,  my  dear,  of  course  1 " 


THE  EPILOGUE  319 

Susan  alighted  like  a  little  bird  on  the  arm  of 
his  chair  and  kissed  the  top  of  his  head. 

"  Oh,  Grandpa,  you  are  such  an  old  darling  1  " 
,she  cried  enthusiastically. 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear,"  said  the  Bishop 
gravely. 

At  the  door  she  turned  to  him  again. 

"And  please  don't  sit  up  too  late,  will  you? 
And  don't  forget  to  turn  off  all  the  lights  before 
you  come  upstairs." 

"  I'll  do  my  best,"  said  the  Bishop  meekly. 

11  Grandpa  —  I  "  she  called. 

He  turned  in  his  chair.  She  smiled  and  blew 
him  a  kiss.  "  I  love  you !  " 

"  Good  night,  little  Susan,"  said  the  Bishop. 

He  sat  for  a  moment  in  silence,  then,  rising 
slowly,  he  closed  the  door  and  listened.  There 
was  no  sound.  Almost  stealthily  he  went  over 
to  the  case  where  the  phonograph  records  were 
kept,  put  on  his  glasses  and  looked  over  those 
lying  on  top.  Finally  he  selected  one  with  much 
care  and  gingerly  put  it  on  the  machine.  He 
started  it  going.  Switching  off  the  lights  the 
Bishop  returned  to  his  armchair  by  the  fire.  A 


320  ROMANCE 

ruddy  glow  lighted  up  his  figure.  He  carefully 
took  from  his  inside  pocket  the  dead  violets  and 
the  little  handkerchief.  Looking  at  them,  he 
smiled  a  tender  little  ghost  of  a  smile  and  sighed. 
The  rich  voice  of  the  Destinn  record  thrilled 
through  the  darkness: 

—  Kennst  du  so  wohl? 

Dahin !     Dahin ! 

Mocht*  ich  mit  dir,  O  mein  Geliebter,  ziehn! 


THE  END 


By  RICHARD  PARKER 

NOVELIZED  FROM  CECIL  RALEIGH'S  GREAT  ENG- 
LISH MELODRAMA  OF  THE  SAME  NAME 


big  love-story  of  English  sporting 
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full  of  pictures,  thrills  and  laughs. — New 
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"The  Whip"  is  the  very  last  word  in 
thrills. — New  York  Globe. 

A  genuine  success. — New  Tork  Evening 
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Beautifully  illustrated  with  pictures  of  real  people,  as  thty 
appear  in  the  play. 

Price  $1.25  net;  Postage  12  Cent* 


The  Macaulay  Company,  Publishers 
15  West  38th  Street  New  York 


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A    000038131     9 


